Women's Social Bonds in Greek and Roman Comedy

Home , Assemblywomen, Bacchides (play), Carding, Casina (play), Cistellaria, Hecyra

Women’s Social Bonds in Greek and Roman Comedy

A dissertation submitted to the Graduate School of the University of Cincinnati in partial fulfillment of the

requirements for the degree of

Doctor of Philosophy (Ph.D.)

in the Department of Classics of the College of Arts and Sciences

2011

Anne C. Feltovich

B.A. Grinnell College – Grinnell, IA 2003

Committee Chair: Kathryn Gutzwiller, Ph.D. Committee Members: Holt Parker, Ph.D. Susan Prince, Ph.D.

Abstract

This project evaluates a range of social relationships between women in Greek and

Roman comedy, focusing on the four authors from whom we have the most extant material:

Aristophanes, Menander, Plautus, and Terence. I examine how social and familial bonds between women affect the risks they are willing to take on behalf of other women in their social circles.

Scholarship on women in comedy has focused on their relationships to men, but my research takes the study of women in a new direction by evaluating their relationships with each other.

Although comedy itself focuses on the social world of men, I am able to uncover significant information about women’s subculture in comedy by reading the plays from an alternative perspective. References to relationships between women are scattered and often indirect, but by compiling the evidence I demonstrate in Chapter 2 that the depiction of women’s social networks is consistent across all four authors. With this background, I examine the bonds between women more closely in the remaining chapters. Chapter 3 looks at three plays of Aristophanes, in which large communities of women cooperate to improve the lives of all women, often requiring individuals to take personal risks for the betterment of the group. Chapter 4 investigates relationships between courtesans in New Comedy, a genre in which this type of character sometimes features prominently. A close reading of the texts makes it apparent that courtesans act not just as a result of economic constraints, but equally because of emotional bonds with friends and family members. Finally, Chapter 5 examines instances of ethical deliberation by females in New Comedy, showing that women of all social classes exhibit ethical behavior even when it requires serious social and physical risks.

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Acknowledgements

This dissertation was made possible by the professional and personal encouragement of many. I offer my profound thanks to my director, Kathryn Gutzwiller, who helped me find my voice, and whose high standards have helped me produce a work of which I am proud. My committee members, Holt Parker and Susan Prince, have offered invaluable advice and guidance, and I am grateful for their careful reading. Any errors which remain are my own. A number of Cincinnati faculty have also contributed greatly to my professional and intellectual development, including Barbara Burrell, Harry Gotoff, William Johnson, and Kathleen Lynch.

I have been the fortunate recipient of a number of grants, including the University

Distinguished Graduate Student Fellowship, the University Graduate Scholarship, the Louise

Taft Semple Scholarship, and the Fulbright-Hays Grant. My research would not have been possible without the John Miller Burnam Classics Library and the assistance of its very knowledgeable staff, Jacquie Riley, David Ball, and Mike Braunlin. I am also indebted to the

American School of Classical Studies at Athens and its Blegen Library. Additional thanks go to

Kirk Ormand of Oberlin College, who was generous with his time and advice while we were at the American School and I was far from my usual mentors.

Finally, I would not be who I am without the support of my very large, very academic family and a number of wonderful friends. My life is enriched by Alder Brannin, Maccabee

White, and the unfailing support of Allison Sterrett-Krause, who has been my dearest friend since my first week in Cincinnati. My parents (Joan and Paul) and siblings (Ellen and Andy) have always believed in me, pushing and pulling me towards the finish line, never doubting that I would make it. I dedicate this work to my mother, whose fight for women in academia made my career, and my dreams, possible.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1. Introduction ...... 1 A. Studies of Women in Comedy ...... 5 B. Relationships between Women in Other Genres...... 14 C. Relationships between Women in Comedy ...... 21 D. Conclusion ...... 28 Chapter 2. Female Social Networks in Comedy...... 30 A. Defining a Woman’s Social Network ...... 31 B. Occasions for Women to Congregate...... 40 C. The Role of the Social Network...... 48 i. Aristophanes’ Lysistrata...... 49 ii. Menander’s Samia ...... 50 iii. Plautus’ Casina...... 53 iv. Terence’ Adelphoe ...... 57 D. Conclusion ...... 63 Chapter 3. Solidarity by Gender: The Women of Aristophanes...... 64 A. Thesmophoriazusae: Women, Men, and the Public Discourse about Gender Roles in the Home...... 66 B. Lysistrata: Women, Men, and the Public Discourse about Military Policy...... 74 C. Ecclesiazusae: Women, Men, and the Public Discourse about Government...... 90 D. Conclusion: Gender and Public Voice in Aristophanes...... 98 Chapter 4. Solidarity by Class: Relationships between Courtesans ...... 100 A. Menander’s Dis Exapaton and Synaristosai ...... 105 B. Plautus’ Bacchides: Sisters and Business Partners ...... 107 C. Plautus’ Asinaria: Mothers and Daughters in the Trade...... 115 D. Plautus’ Cistellaria: Friendship between Courtesans ...... 125 i. Solidarity by ordo ...... 126 ii. Friendship between two young courtesans: Gymnasium and Selenium ...... 129 iii. Friendship between two retired courtesans: Syra and Melaenis...... 131 iv. When friendship is at odds with motherhood ...... 133 v. Mother and daughter: Melaenis and Selenium ...... 135

vi. Citizens, courtesans, and slaves: cross-class relationships...... 139 vii. Summary...... 143 E. Terence’s Eunuch: Affection for a Foster Sister ...... 144 F. Conclusion ...... 153 Chapter 5: Ethical Deliberation among Women in New Comedy...... 155 A. Plautus’ Stichus: Sisters, Wives, and Daughters (in that Order)...... 156 B. Plautus’ Casina: Friendship between Established Matronae ...... 165 C. Terence’ Hecyra: Four Women in a Quandary...... 176 i. Myrrhina’s Choice ...... 178 ii. Sostrata’s Choice ...... 184 iii. Bacchis’ Choice...... 187 iv. Philumena’s Choice ...... 195 v. Summary...... 196 D. Menander’s Epitrepontes: A Courtesan Meets her Lover’s Wife...... 198 E. Menander’s Samia: The Concubine Next Door ...... 208 F. Conclusion ...... 219 Chapter 6. Concluding Remarks...... 221 Works Cited ...... 224

Chapter 1. Introduction

Mulier mulieri mage convenit. A woman is best to meet with a woman. (Terence Phormio 726)

Most summaries of New Comedy will start out with something like this: “A young man has fallen in love …” His relationship woes are what we are supposed to see, and usually what we do see the first time we read a New Comic play. In the Phormio of Terence, a young man named Antipho has concocted a dishonest scheme by which he succeeds in marrying the girl of his dreams, all while his father, Demipho, is out of town and ignorant of the situation. In the meantime, Demipho has made arrangements with his best friend, Chremes, for their two children to wed. When he learns that Antipho has married another without his permission, Demipho and

Chremes decide to dissolve the existing marriage. From the perspective of the play, it is a minor obstacle for the two patriarchs, but from the perspective of the girl – a perspective that we are not encouraged to take – it is potentially devastating. This poor, teenage girl has finally attained the status that young citizen girls have been taught their self-worth depends upon – wife – but now she will lose it immediately. Instead, she will be marked as a divorced and rejected woman, falling from the highest status to the lowest. The men are not unaware of how the divorce would affect her, but it does not deter them in the least. They decide to find her another husband and convince her that he is an even better match. In other words, they will lie, couching their rotten and selfish motives in the guise of a favor to the girl. Worried perhaps that she will see through their plan, they do not have the courage to personally confront her. They decide, therefore, to send Chremes’ wife to have a woman-to-woman talk with her. Mulier mulieri mage convenit (“a woman is best to meet with a woman,” 726), he says.

Although much of Greek and Roman literature was written by men and for men, with precious little female-authored literature remaining, male authors nonetheless show an awareness of women’s subculture. In the Phormio example, the playwright understands that women interact socially with other women in a very different way than they interact with men, and that their interactions serve an important function within the dominant culture. A married woman would have more success than a man in convincing the young girl that the alternative arrangements are in her best interest. The meeting between the girl and Chremes’ wife is not shown on stage.

Rather, it is only hinted at with this one line, a minor detail in this fictional world. Often in the background, and sometimes even in the foreground, a work of literature shows women interacting with other women. These are the interactions that I investigate in this dissertation.

The literary representation of female subculture in Aristophanes, Menander, Plautus, and

Terence is consistent, as I will demonstrate in Chapter 2. My study is a literary one, rather than a social historical one: the women of comedy are fictional characters, as are the men, and to use them as evidence for social realities in ancient Athens and Rome would require a different kind of study, one which I am not undertaking at this time. The women of comedy may indeed reflect real Greeks and Romans, albeit filtered through a specific lens, and the questions and conclusions uncovered in my study will be useful for future projects that evaluate women’s relationships from a literary, anthropological, or historical perspective.

Although ample attention has been paid to the women of comedy, the focus has been on their relationship to men, or the construction of gender more broadly, which still views women in contrast with men. This approach to reading the comedies is one that perhaps comes naturally, since readers are encouraged to adopt the perspective of the author. Rabinowitz issues a call to arms for a new approach:

Moreover, until quite recently, discussions about women in antiquity focused on their social status, which was determined by their ties to men (father, husband); that focus led scholars to overlook women’s relationships to other women.1

While her collected volume, Among Women, co-edited with Auanger, ambitiously aims to uncover social historical realities of relationships (largely erotic in nature) between women, I present a more focused literary study of relationships between women in comedy. There are many and interesting examples of women interacting in these plays, providing ample material that has unfortunately received little attention thus far, an oversight that this dissertation aims to correct. In the chapters that follow, I evaluate a range of social relationships between female characters in Aristophanes, Menander, Plautus, Terence, the four comic authors from whom we have enough material to analyze. Using a technique encouraged by feminist scholars and championed by Judith Fetterley in her book, The Resisting Reader, it is possible to read these plays from a perspective other than the author intended.2 New Comedy in particular seems to beg for this alternative kind of reading, since women play a prominent role in this genre. In fact, the focus on women and domestic matters generally increases in the Hellenistic period, (in which

Greek New Comedy was written, from which Roman Comedy is derived). Literature of this era privileges a drastically new perspective than the Classical period,3 and Gutzwiller and Michelini suggest that the importance of this shift has been overlooked. The historically narrow focus of

Classics as a discipline has caused scholars to read Hellenistic literature through the lens of masculine values, and often dismiss it as inferior because it fails to adhere to those values.

Winkler encourages us “to read our texts from several angles, seeing in them both honest pretensions and cover-ups, just as informants try to manipulate an anthropological observer by

1 Rabinowitz and Auanger 2002: 2. 2 Fetterley 1978. 3 Gutzwiller and Michelini 1991: 74-75.

presenting themselves in the best light.”4 The Greek New Comic poets paid great attention to women and their relationships, and it is time for scholars to take a close look at the ample evidence that the ancient authors have left to us.

This approach has allowed me to present new interpretations of several much discussed scenes, bringing to light motivations that have often been missed by previous scholars. For example, despite the scholarly characterization of many Plautine meretrices as greedy, there are several instances in which a courtesan voluntarily forfeits profit not because she is a good, kind- hearted hooker who loves her boyfriend as much as he loves her (for these examples have been discussed in scholarship at length), but because a mother wants her daughter to be happy, as in the Asinaria, or a girl wants to help her distraught friend, as in the Cistellaria (both plays will be discussed in Chapter 4). This aspect of their relationships has received little scholarly attention.

While some conversations between women are overtly about their relationships with men, they nonetheless tell us something about these women’s relationship with each other, if we are willing to look beneath the surface. The two sisters of the Stichus (treated in Chapter 5) discuss whether they should remain married to their absent husbands or take new ones, as their father desires.

Their arguments, however, speak not just to their identities as wives and daughters, but as sisters who desire to alleviate each other’s distress, and who need each other’s support if they are to oppose their father’s authority. These women’s relationships with each other color their interactions as much as, if not more than, their relationships with the men in their lives. My study takes women in comedy in a new direction by evaluating their relationships not with men but with each other.

4 Winkler 1990: 5.

A. Studies of Women in Comedy

Since the Greek and Roman literary record largely reflects the lives and viewpoints of men, scholars have rightfully felt like the female experience was missing from these works. As such, early studies of women in ancient literature were marked by a desire to uncover the voices and experiences of actual women. Rabinowitz draws our attention to the enormous difficulty of this task:

In brief, we have no direct access to “women’s relations to women” – no actual voices, no recording – only representations. Moreover, ancient culture was male dominated, and except for the fragments of Sappho and some few later women poets, the material remaining to us was produced by men. Thus they are more remote still from women’s actual experience. Our literary sources are further distorted because they are often embedded in discourses of invective, satire, and insult. Thus there are many layers between us in the present and women in the past.5

Because of the difficulties that Rabinowitz outlines in uncovering the reality of women’s lives, the theoretical perspective that has emerged in the last few decades is that we must instead look at literary representation of women and how they intersect with social institutions.6 Many have shown that, as literary representations, “women may be viewed as male constructs appropriated by men for the purpose of speaking about male concerns rather than as simple reflections of social reality.”7 Henderson comments that this model is “certainly valid, but is probably too narrowly drawn.”8 While the interactions between women can often tell us something about the relationships between men, they also tell us something about how male authors viewed women.9

There are ample texts to be mined for interactions between women, and if the reader asks not,

“What am I supposed to get out of this interaction,” but instead, “What can I get out of this

5 Rabinowitz and Auanger 2002: 2. 6 McClure 1999: 4. 7 McClure 1999: 5, referring to Padel 1983; Foley 1988; Halperin 1990b; Zeitlin 1996; and Stehle 1997. 8 Henderson 1996: 29. 9 Henderson 1996: 20.

interaction,” many new insights will arise. Winkler sees a double consciousness in Sappho’s poetry, demonstrating that she is well versed in both male and female culture: “Because men define and exhibit their language and manners as the culture and segregate women’s language and manners as subculture, inaccessible to and protected from extra-familial men, women are in the position of knowing two cultures where men know only one.” 10 The Phormio example shows not just how two men try to manipulate a young girl in order to cement their friendship with each other, but also how women inhabit and communicate within a distinct subculture operating parallel to the dominant male culture. While the women must be culturally conversant in both spheres in order to survive, the men are completely at a loss when it comes to operating in the female world, and so must designate a woman to represent their interests there.

In Old Comedy, there has been a scholarly focus on the dramatic representation of gender. Drawing from Xenophon’s Oikonomicos, Shaw equated women in Greek literature with the sphere of the oikos and men with the polis and argued that the Lysistrata investigates what happens when women intrude into the male sphere.11 The playwright is then charged with restoring the balance. The qualities that the polis currently ignores, Shaw argues, can be found in the oikos, maintained by women who have been cut off from men’s society. By dramatizing the conflict of oikos and polis, the playwright shows the shortcomings of male civic virtues.12 Shaw has made explicit the underlying assumption of Vaio, that the women in Aristophanes represent domesticity, in contrast to the male sphere of politics.13

10 Winkler 1990: 174, from his essay “Double Consciousness in Sappho’s Lyrics” (162-87). In his essay, “The Laughter of the Oppressed” (188-209 in the same work), Winkler attempts to uncover evidence for female subculture in male-authored literature on female ritual activity. 11 Shaw 1975: 256. 12 Shaw 1975: 266. 13 Vaio 1973.

Foley rejects the oversimplification of women:oikos::men:polis. This association in scholarship reflects a division noticed by the ancient Greeks in their philosophical texts, but the problem with this equation is that, “[w]omen in drama do not confine themselves to the domestic and religious spheres to which they were relegated in reality.”14 They are sometimes active in the political sphere, as in the Lysistrata, and at other times they fail to fulfill their domestic duties.

Some women, like Lysistrata, intrude upon the polis in a respectable way in order to restore natural balance. These inversions show that the original equation is the ideal; violators of the cultural norms are usually punished and the rightful order is restored by the end of the play. This ideal, however, is rarely seen in Greek drama. Instead, we see a “reciprocal model of the relation between public and private, male and female, which helps us to define a norm against which to read the inversions and aberrations of drama.”15 Since drama deals with social crisis, we often look at exceptions to the rule. Foley revises Shaw’s model: men and women share a stake in both oikos and polis, but play different roles in each. The women of the Ecclesiazusae and Lysistrata temporarily redefine their roles in the sphere of the polis only because men have neglected their duties in the polis (in the case of the Ecclesiazusae) and the oikos (in the case of the Lysistrata), but with the ultimate goal of restoring men and women to their traditional roles in each sphere.16

Following Foley, Taaffe argues, “Aristophanes considers the feminine to be an essential element of the polis, yet one controlled and represented by men.”17

There has been great interest, too, in showing how individual female heroines in

Aristophanes are given character traits conventionally assigned to male figures, through which they achieve comic success. Scholars argue that Lysistrata is able to unify the women and

14 Foley 1981: 151. 15 Foley 1981: 161. 16 Foley 1982: 5-6. 17 Taaffe 1993: 13.

compel the men to end the war only because she is an atypical female, unconcerned with her identity as wife and mother, and skilled at oratory like a man.18 Foley again changes the dialogue slightly, arguing that Lysistrata is successful because she transcends the follies of both sexes.19

De Luca looks at the Ecclesiazusae as a gendered revolution, contrasted with the masculine revolution staged by Aristophanes in the Knights.20 In the approaches discussed above, scholars examine the female characters of Aristophanes as gendered beings: woman is defined in contrast to man as unmarked case, and sometimes she is defined as the very opposite of man.

There is a great deal of gender bending in the three so-called “women plays” of

Aristophanes: Thesmophoriazusae, Lysistrata, and Ecclesiazusae. It is an obvious locus of humor and metatheatricality for the playwright, since dramatic conventions meant that female characters were played by male actors. In the Ecclesiazusae, male actors play women who impersonate men, and in the Thesmophoriazusae there is a male actor dressed as an effeminate male (Agathon), a male actor playing a man impersonating a woman (the Kinsman), and a male actor playing a man who assumes various male and female roles throughout the play (Euripides).

Issues of gender bending, cross-dressing, and the representation of gender in these plays have recently been addressed in the works of Taaffe, Zeitlin, Stehle, and Tzanetou, among others.21

Zeitlin’s seminal work shows that the Thesmophoriazusae is a play about boundaries

between male and female, between tragedy and comedy, between theater (tragedy and comedy) and festival (ritual and myth), between festival (the Thesmophoria) and festival (the Dionysiac, which provides the occasion for its performance and determines its comic essence), and finally between bounded forms (myth, ritual, and drama) and the more fluid ‘realities’ of everyday life.22

18 Henderson 1980: 169, 187; Taaffe 1993: 61. 19 Foley 1982: 5. 20 De Luca 2005. 21 Taaffe 1991; Zeitlin 1996; Stehle 2002; Tzanetou 2002. 22 Zeitlin 1996: 377.

While such studies of gender and mimesis are fascinating and an important step towards understanding the literary representation of women in these plays, they nonetheless restrict the significance of female characters. My study is not about defining gender boundaries: it is not about what makes women women and what makes men men; it is not about showing those boundaries by transgressing them; it is not about the construction and cultural reproduction of gender. It is about how women interact with other women, irrespective of gendered identities and not as contrasted with men.

If one reads Aristophanes’ plays for evidence of the culturally defined construction of gender, the misogynistic element becomes readily apparent. Gardner argues that Aristophanes’ depictions of women reflect male anxieties about the extent of female power within the oikos, since women are ultimately beyond their control.23 Such anxieties are obvious in many of the comic stereotypes regarding women, such as their insatiable sexual appetite and their predilection for importing suppositious children into the household. Finnegan looks comprehensively at the indications of misogyny in the Aristophanic representation of women, discussing his depictions of marriage, female sexuality, and the association between women and drink.24 While one could certainly offer a well-supported argument that women are not mentioned in the plays without at least some hint of misogyny, their appearances in drama are nevertheless set against a background of everyday, mundane interactions that do not necessarily carry a value judgment, positive or negative. In this dissertation, I weed through the negative characterizations to uncover these innocuous interactions.

Since the genres of New and Old Comedy differ quite a bit, studies of women in New

Comedy have focused on different issues. New Comedy often revolves around the relationships

23 Gardner 1989. 24 Finnegan 1995.

of the citizen male, and for that reason much work has been done evaluating the women of these plays through the lens of social status, categories that are defined from the male viewpoint.25

Scholars often analyze the women of New Comedy by type (e.g. meretrix, uxor dotata, virgo, and nupta, to use the Latin terms), an interest that stems largely from the ancient recognition of stock characters and themes, which the New Comic poets appropriated and modified in creative ways. Donatus says that Menander’s hetairai were either ἰταμαὶ καὶ θρασεῖαι (“forward and bold”) or χρησταἰ καὶ ἀντερώσαι (“good and loving in return,” Quaest. Conv. 7.8.712C).

Terence acknowledges that he inherited a set of stock characters for Roman comedy, among them meretrices males (Eun. 37), and Plautus produces a similar list, including the periurus leno, the miles gloriosus, and the meretrix mala (Capt. 57-58). He boasts that his Captivi will be an unusual play precisely because it does not contain any of those expected characters. Donatus says that Terence dared to make socrus bonas and meretrices honesti cupidas (“courtesans desirous of virtue,” ad Hec. 774). Perhaps because the ancients viewed New Comic characters through the lens of stock types, modern scholars have been inspired to view the women of these plays through ancient eyes. It is easy to slot the female characters of New Comedy into these categories partly because they were written with these categories in mind.

One type of woman in particular, the Greek hetaira or Roman meretrix, has captured much scholarly attention. Henry’s comprehensive work on the hetairai of Menander sets out to assess “Menander’s characterization of courtesans within the Greek comic tradition and his contribution to the ‘type’ of the bona meretrix.”26 In this pursuit, Henry makes valuable contributions to the literary depiction of hetairai in Greek literature and Menander more broadly.

25 Krieter-Spiro 1997 presents a comprehensive study of the women of New Comedy and social status. 26 Henry 1985: 2.

The desire to analyze and categorize the courtesans of Greek New Comedy within the framework of “good” and “bad” persists in scholarship, making its way into the study of Plautus and

Terence, especially those plays of Terence which derive from Menander.27 The interpretation of

New Comic courtesans as good or bad privileges the male perspective, since courtesans are characterized as good only if they put their lovers’ desires before their own needs, and bad if they act otherwise. To better understand the literary depiction of courtesans in Greek and Roman comedy, several scholars have delved into their social historical background. Fantham uses the evidence from Menander, Plautus, and Terence to discuss the social realities with which courtesans were faced, including above all else the need for courtesans to make as much money as possible in their youth in order to support themselves in old age.28 Her work highlights the fact that the negative judgment of “greedy” is inherently unfair, since these women have no other option than to maximize profits, which are extracted from male customers. Several recent works, including those of McGinn, Faraone and McClure, and Glazebrook and Henry, treat the realia

Greek and Roman prostitution more comprehensively, drawing evidence from a wide variety of literary, artistic, legal, and historical sources.29 With this background to the social realities of courtesans, I look past their characterization as good, bad, greedy, or loving, and instead investigate what characterizes their relationships with each other and with other women. This sometimes includes financial needs, but also includes emotional needs, and the bonds of family and friendship that affect all human beings.

Rape plays an exceptionally prominent role in New Comedy, and for that reason has caught the attention of many. Often it serves as a plot device that allows the young citizen male

27 On Menander: Brown 1990; on Plautus: Fantham 2002; on Terence: Gilula 1980, Knorr 1995; on Menander and Terence: Gruen 1991, Zeitlin 2005. 28 Fantham 1975. 29 McGinn 2004; Faraone and McClure 2006; Glazebrook and Henry 2011.

to marry the girl whom he most desires.30 Rosivach discusses the rapes of New Comedy comprehensively, examining the affect that the incident has on a young girl’s social relationships with her mother (when her mother is her guardian) and her potential marriage partners.31

Sommerstein contrasts the literary role of rape in Aristophanes and Menander, showing that rape in Old Comedy is only suggested or imagined and served as a way for old men to rejuvenate themselves.32 In New Comedy, although there is some recognition of the trauma of rape in the moment, it is treated as temporary trauma, and it receives no more than a passing glance in the plays. Smith shows that Terence’s characters (both male and female) recognize the seriousness of the crime, and the audience would understand that rape upsets civic order.33 The depiction of rape’s physical and emotional trauma in Terence is discussed by James, who shows that “[t]he men recognize their violation of social boundaries, but the women recognize – and articulate – the personal devastation of the raped girls.”34 There is no suggestion that the girl might find it horrific to be married to her rapist. Instead, the focus of the plays is more on how good the marriage is for her socially, since it saves her from ignominy.35 Omitowoju presents a detailed study of the depiction of rape in Menander against the backdrop of Classical Athens, and the collected volume of Deacy and Pierce looks at rape in antiquity more comprehensively.36 The

30 Fantham 1975: 53-54. 31 Rosivach 1998. The book provides detailed analysis of each instance of rape in New Comedy, organized thematically. Of particular interest is Chapter 3, “Mothers and Daughters,” which treats the rapes of girls who are under their mother’s care, both citizen girls whose father is absent and young courtesans who live in a female-headed household. Leisner-Jensen 2002: 175- 190 provides a short, descriptive catalogue of rapes in New Comedy. 32 Sommerstein 1998b: 103, 109. This work also provides a catalogue of suggested and imagined rapes in Aristophanes (105-8). 33 Smith 1994: 23, 25-26, 31. 34 James 1998: 41. 35 Sommerstein 1998b: 103. 36 Omitowoju 2002 and Deacy and Pierce 1997. See also Omitowoju 1997 on the legal treatment of rape in Athens.

chapter by Pierce in particular addresses the literary portrayal of rape in New Comedy, but the article has more to offer in the way of summary than analysis.37 Although rape plays a prominent role in the fictional life of the New Comic citizen girl, the focus on this element overshadows other aspects of her life. In particular, the story of her rape is the story of her relationship with men, both the man who raped her (the adulescens, who is also her future husband) and the man whose rights this rape violates (her kyrios). I am more interested in understanding her relationship with other women, not just in respect to her rape, as James and Smith have done, but in many aspects of her life.

Finally, there have been several studies on women’s speech, noting the particular linguistic markers of feminine speech and which characters exhibit these more than others. Bain evaluates female speech in Menander, and Martin looks particularly at the speech of a female slave in Terence, showing the linguistic markers not just of her gender but also her social status.38 Dorota Dutsch investigates the association of women with persuasion and flattery in

Plautus, and she looks more comprehensively at female speech genres in Roman Comedy in her recent book, Feminine Discourses in Roman Comedy.39 McClure studies the representation of women’s speech in Attic drama, with a view towards understanding its social and political function. She looks at how male and female discursive practices are delineated, identifying the female speech genres of gossip, seduction, lamentation, and ritual speech. In drama, McClure sees an organized effort by men to suppress the voices of women, even when they speak within the limited ritual contexts allowed to them; when women are able to overcome this silence, they

37 Pierce 1997. 38 Bain 1984 and Martin 1995. 39 Dutsch 2005 and Dutsch 2008, respectively.

are seen as disruptive to social order.40 This book was followed shortly by a collected volume on women’s voices in Greek literature, in which a number of influential scholars take different methodological approaches to female voice and the suppression thereof.41 Most noteworthy for my study is Griffith’s chapter on the women of Sophocles’ Antigone, because he shows that there are as many female voices as there are females in this play, as there is no unifying set of characteristics.42 Although these studies tell us many and interesting things about the way male authors conceptualized female voices, I prefer, as Griffith, to understand the female characters of comedy as individuals.

B. Relationships between Women in Other Genres

While I am focusing on comedy, Greek and Latin authors in a variety of genres examine relationships between women. A not uncommon literary trope is debate between sisters, as in the

Stichus (to be discussed in Chapter 5). Rather than having an individual examine her ethical dilemma in a monologue, the playwright explores conflicting motivations by showing a debate between two sisters. Three well-known examples are the debates between Antigone and Ismene in Sophocles’ Antigone, Medea and Chalkiope in Apollonius’ Argonautica 3, and Dido and Anna in Vergil’s Aeneid 4. In the Sophocles play, Foley demonstrates that Antigone’s decisions are shaped by her social role: as virgin daughter she opts to forgo marriage in order to bury her brother, which is part of a larger endeavor to avenge her father by honoring his line. The contrasting voice of Ismene, however, shows that Antigone’s morality is not precisely representative of her gender.43 Rather, Antigone’s ethics are unique: whereas Creon operates in

40 McClure 1999: 6-7. 41 Lardinois and McClure 2001. 42 Griffith 2001: 121, 136. 43 Foley 2001: 172-76. For an analysis of how Antigone and Ismene’s speech patterns reflect their different social and ethical positions, see Griffith 2001: 126-136.

an absolute system, committed to the general principle that one should always act in the interest of the state, Antigone’s morality is relative to her specific situation. She develops her ethical position in this particular circumstance “out of her own familial experience and in the specific context of the burial of her brother.”44 By gendering ethical positions, Foley argues, Sophocles is able to publically explore moral complexities that he otherwise could not because the audience would be less uncomfortable witnessing controversial ethics in female characters than in males.45

The debate between Antigone and her sister has some parallels to the debate between sisters in

Plautus’ Stichus: in this play both women are married (unlike Antigone and her sister) and of the same social status, but they similarly weigh their social obligations to their father versus their social obligations to their marital family.

The interaction between Medea and her sister, Chalkiope, in Apollonius’ Argonautica

(3.636-741) is unusual in that Medea consciously withholds information from her sister in order to manipulate the situation so that Chalkiope, not Medea, is morally responsible for Medea’s course of action. Because of the intervention of Aphrodite, Medea has fallen in love with Jason and is driven by forces beyond her control to help him. Jason’s fate is intertwined with that of

Chalkiope’s sons, such that if Jason fails, Chalkiope’s sons will likely be killed. Medea desperately wants to help Jason, but as a virgin daughter is ashamed to exercise moral autonomy by scheming to help a man without her father’s knowledge (see lines 740-43). After much hesitation and inner turmoil, she confronts her sister and expresses concern for her nephews, omitting any information about her feelings for Jason and her true motives. She maneuvers the conversation so that Chalkiope begs Medea to protect her nephews, requiring Medea to intercede on Jason’s behalf. Thus Medea is able to do what she desires, but without the shame of being an

44 Foley 2001: 183. 45 Foley 2001: 116.

autonomous moral agent, a role that she feels she has no right to claim. That role is more acceptable for Chalkiope, since she is expected to act in defense of her own sons. 46

Dido in Vergil’s Aeneid finds herself conflicted and seeks out her sister Anna for support

(4.1-53). Dido has fallen in love with Aeneas, which causes her great distress because she feels a strong loyalty to her deceased husband, Sychaeus, and had previously vowed never to marry again. Since Sychaeus was murdered by Dido’s greedy brother, Dido and Anna fled to a new land and have no ties to their natal household. Anna argues that Dido is entitled to love and children, and that her political situation would benefit by a strong marriage. The two women effectively lay out Dido’s social obligations: since she is cut off from her natal family, Dido as a woman believes her greatest loyalty is to her spouse, although deceased. Anna, meanwhile, views her obligations in terms of her role as leader, not woman: not only does Dido deserve happiness, but she is required to make a strategic alliance on behalf of her people, who are currently in a weak position.

The decisions of Medea and Dido are presented in a very different fashion by Ovid in his

Heroides (12 and 7, respectively), where his characters analyze their decisions in retrospective monologues. Each woman explains how the circumstances that preceded her act forced her hand, making her decision (Medea’s to kill her children, Dido’s to kill herself) involuntary. In her lament, Dido examines the ethicality of Aeneas’ actions, including choices he made and choices he was forced into by fate. She ultimately presents Aeneas’ actions, for which he is only partly responsible, as the direct cause of her own suicide. Medea ponders her own past choices to betray her father, brother, and homeland, but puts the responsibility for her predicament on

Jason’s arrival; she does not precisely blame Jason, but rather fate, as did Dido. Both of Ovid’s

46 Although Foley 2001: 181-82 does not discuss this passage, I have interpreted Medea’s behavior in light of Foley’s argument about Antigone, moral autonomy, and her virgin status.

poems acknowledge the literary tradition in which these women debate with their sisters, but each is reduced to a passing comment. Dido says, Anna soror, soror Anna, meae male conscia culpae (“Anna, my sister, my sister, Anna, wretched sharer in the knowledge of my fault,”

Heroides 7.190), and Medea reduces the Apollonius episode to five lines: Medea was upset, she received her sister in her bedchamber, her sister prayed for Medea’s help, and Medea complied on account of her feelings for Jason (Heroides 12.62-66). Rather than using debate between sisters to analyze ethical choices as they happen, Ovid has used a reflective monologue to justify an ethical position after the fact.

The depiction of everyday scenes, including those that feature women, becomes prevalent in Hellenistic literature. Conversations between sisters, female friends, and courtesans are common in Greek Comedy and its Roman derivatives, but they are also depicted in Theocritus,

Herodas, and Apollonius (as discussed above). Theocritus’ fifteenth Idyll is a charming look at a conversation between two friends, married with children, who engage in gossip and chitchat as they prepare to attend a festival. The scene and conversation have many things in common with

New Comedy: the focus on the small, mundane and intimate, such as eating, bathing, housework, and religious rituals. In Idyll 15, Praxinoa and Gorgo discuss topics similar to those we see in

New Comedy: relationships, compliments to each other, complaints about their husbands, and gossip about other women.

The mimes of Herodas and Sophron address similarly intimate and even vulgar subjects, a characteristic of the genre. The focus on women in Hellenistic mimes is due in part to the heavy influence of Sicilian mimes on the genre,47 but also reflects the increased interest in women and domestic topics in Hellenistic literature. Herodas’ fourth mime illustrates women

47 Skinner 2001: 205.

engaged in religious ritual, sacrificing at a temple to Asclepius and discussing the temple artwork. Marilyn Skinner demonstrates that this poem and Theocritus 15, which were written so close together that we do not know which is older, derive from a shared literary tradition on women viewing art, into which category Sophron’s lost “Women Viewing the Isthmian Festival” probably fits.48 Goldhill notes that Theocritus 15 “does not merely perform ecphrases, but pre- presents the performances of ecphrases.”49 By dramatizing women viewing, these poems add another layer to the Hellenistic topos of ecphrasis: rather than giving us an evaluation of a sophos, as so many epigrams do, these poems dramatize “the response of figures framed as other, different from the Hellenistic poet – an ironic strategy of distancing which turns back on the reader the requirement of evaluative response.”50 The setting for these poems, religious festivals, were one of the few occasions for women to gather publically, and as I demonstrate in

Chapter 2, both Old and New Comedy use religious festivals as a socially acceptable way to show women gathering in public: the women of Athens gather for the Thesmophoria in

Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazusae, the courtesan Chrysis hosts a festival for Adonis in

Menander’s Samia, and in Menander’s Epitrepontes and Terence’s Hecyra, citizen girls are raped while attending all-night festivals (παννυχίς) with other women. A fragmentary mime of unknown author appears to resemble the rape plot of these two plays: in the mime, a girl hides her pregnancy, the result of a rape at an all-night festival, from her family.51 Women dining together is another common scene type and the likely subject of Herodas’ very fragmentary ninth mime, Aponestizomenai (“Women at Breakfast”), and Sophron’s even more fragmentary mime possibly titled Synaristosai (“Women at Lunch”). Menander has a play of the same name, lost

48 Skinner 2001: 204. 49 Goldhill 1994: 216. 50 Goldhill 1994: 223. 51 Popular Mime fragment 13 in Henderson 2002: 360-61, 412-15.

but known to us through fragments and the mosaics at Mytilene, Pompeii, Zeugma, and Antioch.

Plautus’ Cistellaria, which is thought to be based upon Menander’s play, begins with a scene of courtesans breakfasting.52

Herodas’ first mime features a dialogue between two courtesans, a type of scene that is also prevalent in New Comedy. In the mime, a young courtesan, Meretriche, is stubbornly loyal to her absent lover despite the efforts of her old nurse, Gyllis, to convince her that she must take on other lovers to satisfy her financial needs. A mother-daughter pair in Plautus’ Asinaria engage in a similar conversation. When we see this plot in Plautus’ Cistellaria, a courtesan mother tries to convince her daughter, a foundling who has been raised as a courtesan, that she must take on multiple lovers. Because the daughter is discovered to be a citizen girl, the tension between mother and daughter takes on a new dimension: Plautus uses her resistance to taking multiple lovers as a literary clue to her innate citizen character, ashamed at the idea of behaving like a courtesan. The daughter’s refusal, moreover, ultimately puts her in a position to marry once her citizen status is revealed.

Some themes of New Comedy reappear in later Greek and Latin literature in very different format. Seneca the Elder’s Controversiae treat many variations on the theme of rape, citing a law that the victim can either demand the death of the rapist or marriage to him. New

Comedy and the Controversiae share an unusual focus on marriage between a rapist and his victim, a theme that surely occurs more often in this literature than in real life. The

Controversiae, however, examine the social phenomenon of rape from the perspective of the girl’s father, covering several hypothetical scenarios in which the father’s desires are not met or are not able to be met. Each piece treats the rape as an infraction against the father’s property,

52 The connection between the two plays was first proposed by Prehn 1916: 10 and is now generally accepted.

whereas in New Comedy a rape (or seduction) is more often used as a plot device that allows a young man to marry the girl he desires, as in Terence’s Eunuch and Adelphoe. Rape is also the source of distress for a young man when he discovers that his new wife is carrying someone else’s child, and in turn the means of his salvation when he discovers that he is the rapist and the child is his, as in Menander’s Epitrepontes and Terence’s Hecyra. It can hardly be considered a happy ending for the young bride who discovers that her husband is also her rapist, although it is the only outcome that allows her to have a secure marriage and a roof over her head. It does, however, benefit the young man: in each play, for different reasons, the girl is never given the option of requesting the rapist’s death, because she is unaware of his identity until after the wedding (Hecyra and Epitrepontes), or because her family arranges the marriage without her knowledge (Eunuch), or because she is impoverished and fatherless and has no other financial option than marriage (Adelphoe). The circumstances result in her marriage, fulfilling the social and emotional desires of the rapist.

Interaction between courtesans is the setting for one of Lucian’s major works, Dialogues of the Courtesans. These dialogues appear to have been directly influenced by New Comedy, and a scholiast claims that Lucian’s hetairai were drawn from Menander.53 The seventh dialogue is similar to Herodas’ mime and the conversations in Plautus’ Cistellaria and Asinaria: a young courtesan girl fights with her mother about her desire to have only one lover. In fact, many of the dialogues address the issue of financial necessity, a theme common in the comedies. Other shared themes include courtesans lamenting about unfaithful lovers (dialogues 1-4, 12), lovers who have grown disinterested or stopped coming around (10 and 11), the violence that

53 See Rabe 1906: 275 for the text of the scholia. Gilhuly 2006: 277 summarizes the evidence for the influence of New Comedy on these dialogues. Particularly noteworthy is the work of Mras 1916, who demonstrated that the personal names of courtesans in these dialogues are drawn from New Comedy.

accompanies jealous lovers (8 and 15), the difficulties of balancing multiple customers (9), the unusualness of a courtesan who only desires one lover (12), and the courtesan business model of a strict exchange rate of services for goods (14). Whereas the interaction between courtesans in

New Comedy is only part of a larger plot, Lucian’s dialogues focus entirely on the perspective of the courtesan, and each explores just one or two out of a handful of literary tropes about courtesans. The comedies, on the other hand, often combine several of these tropes into one play because the dramatic format allows for more characters, more complex characters, and character development.

C. Relationships between Women in Comedy

Within this rich tradition depicting relationships between women in Greek and Roman literature, I have chosen to study the women of comedy. Because the scenes of women interacting are often short and scattered throughout a text, I am looking at the combined evidence of the two closely related genres, Old and New Comedy. In Chapter 2, I construct a literary picture of a woman’s social network in comedy, using evidence from each of the four major authors. The chapter defines the extent and make-up of female social circles, showing that it may consist of family members, in-laws, neighbors, and household slaves. Whereas it is common for a two or three women to gather in a private home to socialize, share a meal, attend to childbirth, prepare for a wedding, or do chores, the only acceptable reason for a large-scale public gathering of women is for religious purposes, usually a festival or funeral. Aristophanes’

Thesmophoriazusae is set entirely at one such festival, but these festivals receive only passing comments in New Comedies and are never shown on stage.

The picture of female social networks is consistent across all four authors, with exceptions for comic license. In Aristophanes, the networks are fantastically large, covering the

entire polis or multiple poleis, while their counterparts in New Comedy are smaller, sometimes limited to one or two households. Since Aristophanes’ women gather in large groups, they must either do so at socially approved religious gatherings, or they must do it in secret, pretending that they are going to participate in a socially acceptable private gathering, such as breakfast with a friend. The activities that women pretend to do in Aristophanes are precisely the kinds of activities that women actually partake of in New Comedy, including lunching together or attending to childbirth. The picture across all four authors is remarkably consistent, showing that they draw from of a shared comic world regarding relationships between women. Since any given play may have only one (or zero) example of women interacting, it is only when the comedies are viewed in aggregate that we are able to understand that there is a consistent representation of women’s subculture available for analysis. Against this background, I use the remaining chapters of my dissertation to investigate how women interact within their social networks.

The women of Aristophanes are treated separately (Chapter 3) because his portrayal of women (and men) is political and broadly social, a substantial difference from the approach of

New Comedy. In the Lysistrata, Thesmophoriazusae, and Ecclesiazusae, I examine the conflict between the needs of the individual woman and the gendered group, demonstrating that these characters ultimately act for the good of women as a whole. Through unification they exercise greater power than can be achieved by acting separately: they gain a public voice. While the women of these plays have received much attention, it is their relationships that carry the most significance, because their interactions are presented as the model for civic and political alternatives to the status quo. In each play, they combine their smaller, local networks to create a larger network that they mobilize to achieve their ends.

In line with the increasing interest of the Hellenistic era in domestic subject matter, New

Comedy focuses on more intimate relationships between two or three women, which I treat in

Chapters 4 and 5, looking first at the women of a specific type, the courtesans. Because New

Comic plays often follow the love interests of a young, citizen male, courtesans play a prominent role in many plots, while dramatic conventions dictated that respectable citizen virgins could not be shown on stage, a reflection of their real life seclusion.54 Since social conventions kept young men and women apart, courtesans (or pseudo-courtesans, who are citizen foundlings raised as prostitutes) were the only available figures with whom a young man could spend considerable time and fall in love. For these reasons, such characters appear frequently in New Comedy and inhabit a different social world than the citizen women, with whom they may have little contact.

Examining the relationships of courtesans in Plautus (Bacchides, Asinaria, Cistellaria) and

Terence (Eunuch), I show in Chapter 4 how their marginal position in society coupled with mutual financial need can foster alliances. Of particular interest is how courtesans deal with occasions where affection for a friend or family member is at odds with their financial needs. I demonstrate that their relationships with each other are a significant motivating factor for their actions.

In the final chapter (Chapter 5), I look more closely at instances of ethical deliberation by women in New Comedy, taking examples from Plautus’ Stichus and Casina, Terence’s Hecyra, and Menander’s Samia and Epitrepontes. Women of various social classes engage in such deliberation, sometimes with other women, sometimes in monologue form. My analysis is set against the ancient framework of Aristotle, whose influence on Menander is notable. The Stichus is based on a Menandrian play, and the Hecyra is based on a play by Apollodorus, a play which

54 See below, page 37, for further explanation.

itself appears to have been influenced by Menander’s Epitrepontes.55 Diogenes Laertius (5.36) tells us that Menander studied philosophy under the Theophrastus, and the peripatetic influence on his work has been discussed by many.56 Tierney and Barigazzi in particular demonstrate the parallels between Menander’s Perikeiromene and Aristotle’s systematization of voluntary and involuntary acts in the Poetics, Nichomachean Ethics, and Rhetoric.57

While discussing tragedy in his Poetics, Aristotle describes moral choice as a function of character (ἦθος):

ἔστιν δὲ ἦθος μὲν τὸ τοιοῦτον ὃ δηλοῖ τὴν προαίρεσιν, ὁποία τις ἐν οἷς οὐκ ἔστι δῆλον ἢ προαιρεῖται ἢ φεύγει … (6.1450b8-10)

For character is the thing that reveals moral choice, what kinds of things someone chooses or rejects in times when it is not clear …58

Any action may be the result of a choice, for there is always the option of not acting (φεύγει).

Aristotle is specifically interested in situations in which the choice is not clear. There are three major components of his statement that need further investigation: character, the difference between choosing something and avoiding something, and the concept of voluntary choice, a phrase which Aristotle uses to describe instances in which the way forward is not clear. In his

Nichomachean Ethics, Aristotle elaborates on each of these. The term ἦθος, whence English

“ethics” (via the adjective ἠθικός), is not adequately represented by the English word

“character.” It does not refer to qualities that one is born with, but rather the character that one has developed through habits and activities, and is best revealed through choice (ἡ προάιρεσις,

NE 1111b5). Aristotle distinguishes between choosing to do something (ἡ αἵρεσις), of which the three motives are the noble, the expedient, and the pleasant (τὸ καλόν, τὸ συμφέρον, τὸ ἡδύ);

55 Capps 1981: 42. 56 Tierney 1936; Webster 1960: 195-219; Barigazzi 1965: 69-86; Gaiser 1967; Arnott 1968: 8-9. 57 Tierney 1936 249-50; Barigazzi 1965: 80. 58 All translations are my own unless otherwise noted.

and choosing not to do something (ἡ φυγή), of which the three motives are the base, the harmful, and the painful (τὸ αἰσχρόν, τὸ βλαβερόν, τὸ λυπερόν, NE 1104b30-32). In many of my examples from comedy, the choice that I evaluate is the choice between acting and not acting.

Not all acts, however, are truly the result of ethical decisions. To qualify as such, one must choose to act with knowledge, one must choose the act deliberately and for its own sake, and the act must come from a fixed and permanent disposition of one’s character (NE 1105a28-

34). These first two qualifications relate to Aristotle’s distinction between voluntary and involuntary acts (τὸ ἑκούσιον καὶ τὸ ἀκούσιον, NE 1109b32-33). An act is involuntary when done under compulsion or through ignorance (βίᾳ ἢ δι’ ἄγνοιαν, NE 1109b35-1110a1). He elaborates on the meaning of βίᾳ:

βίαιον δὲ οὗ ἡ ἀρχὴ ἔξωθεν, τοιαύτη οὖσα ἐν ᾗ μηδὲν συμβάλλεται ὁ πράττων ἢ ὁ πάσχων, οἷον εἰ πνεῦμα κομίσαι ποι ἢ ἄνθρωποι κύριοι ὄντες. 59 (NE 1110a1-4)

An act is compulsory if its origin is from without, such as an act in which the agent – or the one passively experiencing – contributes nothing, for example when a wind, or people who have power over him, carries him somewhere.

“An act whose origins are without” becomes his working definition of involuntary, and he proceeds to debate many examples in which that origin is an external force. The two above are taken as obvious, but other situations are less clear: an act done through fear could be voluntary or involuntary (NE 1110a4-34), and he states that an involuntary action chosen in preference to a given alternative is καθ’ αὑτὰ μὲν ἀκούσιά ἐστι, νῦν δὲ καὶ ἀντὶ τῶνδε ἑκούσια

(“intrinsically involuntary but voluntary under the circumstances,” NE 1110b5). Antigone’s decision to bury her brother in Sophocles’ play is a good example of such an act: she is compelled by familial duty to bury her brother, and in that respect her action is involuntary, but

59 All text of the Nicomachean Ethics is from Bywater 1890.

she is also compelled not to bury him by the decree of Kleon. In choosing between two involuntary acts, her decision to bury her brother is voluntary under the circumstances.

In addition to force, the second kind of involuntary acts is one done through ignorance

(δι᾽ ἀγνοία), which applies to many New Comedy plots and not a few tragic plots. These acts can be voluntary or involuntary depending on the circumstances. An act is involuntary if it causes the agent pain and regret (τὸ ἐπίλυπον καὶ ἐν μεταμελείᾳ, NE 1110b19), but if the agent does not regret it, it cannot be considered involuntary, nor is it truly voluntary since it was done through ignorance. Instead, Aristotle labels the doer a “non-voluntary” agent (οὐχ ἑκών, NE

1110b23, a masculine participle describing the agent, rather than the neuter adjective, ἀκούσιον, describing the act). Although it is quite common for the men of New Comedy to make decisions in ignorance, it is much rarer for the women. In fact, several plays revolve around poor decisions made by men who are unaware of crucial facts deliberately concealed by the women, as in

Terence’s Hecyra and Menander’s Samia. There are, however, many plays in which women make decisions based on inaccurate knowledge of a foundling’s citizen status, such as Plautus’

Cistellaria. Ariana Traill thoroughly investigates the literary role of mistakes about a young woman’s status or character in the Menandrian corpus.60

There are several examples in New Comedy in which women share their deliberative process with the audience. When deliberation preceeds a choice, Aristotle has a special name for this – not just ἡ αἵρεσις, but ἡ προάιρεσις:

ἑκούσιον μὲν δὴ φαίνεται, τὸ δ’ ἑκούσιον οὐ πᾶν προαιρετόν. ἀλλ’ ἆρά γε τὸ προβεβουλευμένον; ἡ γὰρ προαίρεσις μετὰ λόγου καὶ διανοίας. ὑποσημαίνειν δ’ ἔοικε καὶ τοὔνομα ὡς ὂν πρὸ ἑτέρων αἱρετόν. (NE 1112a14-17)

[Moral choice] is clearly a voluntary act, but not every voluntary act is chosen. But is it [defined as] that which has been deliberated before hand? For moral choice involves

60 Traill 2008. See especially chapters 2, “Misperception of Status,” and 3, “Misperception of Character.”

reasoning and a process of thought. Indeed the very word itself seems to indicate as much, since it is something chosen before other things.

Choice and deliberation are intricately tied, and in the comedies we will find several instances in which women share their deliberation process, in monologue form or through dialogue with a friend or another woman in the same predicament. The point of deliberation (βούλη), Aristotle says, is to discover what actions are within one’s power to perform (NE 1112b31-34). Thus a woman caught in an undesirable situation may deliberate with herself or a friend about her options. Although both outcomes may be poor, she is able to make an informed decision and perform a voluntary act as a true agent, or at the very least she can be a non-voluntary (and not involuntary) agent (οὐχ ἑκών), if she has been pressed into a lose-lose situation by circumstances beyond her control.

On the other hand, the choice is sometimes not between two actions, but between acting and not acting (ἠ φυγή), and Aristotle holds the agent morally accountable for both:

ἐν οἷς γὰρ ἐφ’ ἡμῖν τὸ πράττειν, καὶ τὸ μὴ πράττειν, καὶ ἐν οἷς τὸ μή, καὶ τὸ ναί· ὥστ’ εἰ τὸ πράττειν καλὸν ὂν ἐφ’ ἡμῖν ἐστί, καὶ τὸ μὴ πράττειν ἐφ’ ἡμῖν ἔσται αἰσχρὸν ὄν, καὶ εἰ τὸ μὴ πράττειν καλὸν ὂν ἐφ’ ἡμῖν, καὶ τὸ πράττειν αἰσχρὸν ὂν ἐφ’ ἡμῖν. (NE 1113b7-11)

For in times when it is in our power to act, it is also in our power to not act, and in times when we can say, “No,” we can also say, “Yes,” such that if it is in our power to act, and that is a good thing, then it is also in our power to not act, and that is a bad thing, and if it is in our power to not act, and that is a good thing, then it is also in our power to act, and that is a bad thing.

In other words, if acting can be judged kalon, then not acting can be judged aischron, and vice versa: since moral judgment can be passed upon action, the opposite judgment can be equally passed upon inaction.

Aristotle feels that women are morally inferior because their capacity for deliberation (τὸ

βουλευτικόν) lacks authority (ἄκυρον, Politics 1260a12-13), and Foley demonstrates that his belief about women’s diminished capacity for moral agency reflects wider fifth and fourth

century ideas.61 Foley evaluates the literary depiction of women making ethical decisions in tragedy, showing that tragedians prefer to explore “ambiguous and often dangerous moral frontiers” in women, whose “social incapacities are all characteristics men feared in themselves.”62

I follow Foley in the belief that a woman’s social status – virgin, daughter, wife, mother, prostitute, slave – affects the choices that she makes. In her words:

Each of the three roles [virgin, wife, mother] involves meeting a different set of social expectations, and entails acting under the influence of different emotional and social commitments. … In each case, the social position from which the woman acts conditions her perspective on the situation that she faces and the significant choices open to her.63

The social expectations for courtesans and citizen women are so different that I have devoted separate chapters them (Chapters 4 and 5, respectively). What Foley has done with tragedy I have done on a larger scale with comedy. She focuses on examples in which women engage in detailed deliberation, since these are the most interesting insights into ethical choice. Several such ethical deliberations can be found in my dissertation, as in my analysis of Menander’s

Epitrepontes, Plautus’ Stichus and Cistellaria, and Terence’s Hecyra, but the extent to which the playwrights dramatize decision making processes varies widely. In Menander’s Samia, for example, we learn about the women’s activities mainly through hearsay, and so do not see them in the process of making a choice. In these instances, my analysis proceeds from clues about a woman’s motivations and the effect of her decision.

D. Conclusion

In the remaining chapters I hope to show that, by reading the comedies in a way other than the playwrights intended, we can construct an informative picture of women’s subculture in

61 Foley 2001: 111-15. 62 Foley 2001: 116. 63 Foley 2001: 119.

this literary genre. The authors show that women have a separate and complex social system within which they operate, one to which men have little or no access. Although the dominant, masculine driven culture tries to restrict women’s interactions to a set of socially sanctioned activities, women continually stretch these boundaries: they interact in the way that they want and for the purposes that they desire, but they shield their unsanctioned exchanges from male eyes or disguise them in culturally acceptable ways. Within their social circles, they create their own rules, making decisions based on a variety of needs, not just those that fit with their identities as a man’s wife or daughter, but also their identities of friend, sister, and mother. Their desires and motivations are not just female desires, but human desires.

Chapter 2. Female Social Networks in Comedy

Since this dissertation explores women’s relationships with other women, I seek first to understand the extent and makeup of female social circles in the comedies. Using evidence from the four authors, I will discuss who is in a woman’s social circle (Part A) and what activities women engage in together (Part B). I will then present examples of how relationships between women can be deployed as a plot device (Part C).

Despite writing in different languages, genres, and time periods, the picture of women’s social circles is similar across all four authors, with one notable exception in scale. The picture of a normal network can be drawn in part from the unusual situations seen in comedy that must be explained by the various playwrights. For example, the woman in Terence’s Adelphoe has no social support, and the title character of Aristophanes’ Lysistrata is socially linked to every woman in Greece. Aristophanes, the only Old Comic poet from whom we have substantial material, writes fantastic plots in which women combine their small, local networks to create unrealistically large social circles spanning the whole polis or multiple poleis. Meanwhile, the genre of Greek New Comedy, and in fact much of Hellenistic literature, to which Menander’s work belongs, focuses on the small scale. Since the Roman poets Plautus and Terence based their plays on Greek New Comedies, including Menander’s, they show a similar interest in small scale and more intimate topics. The networks of New Comedy therefore are usually restricted to one or two households. Aristophanes calls attention many times to the unusually large size of the

Lysistrata’s network, just as Terence draws attention to the unusually small size of the women’s world in his Adelphoe. The combined evidence of the four authors shows that the audience’s expectation of a more normal female social circle is a small group that includes family members, household slaves, in-laws, and neighbors. What constitutes a normal women’s network is

consistent across all four authors, but different elements, sometimes unusual or fantastic, become the focus in different plays according to the needs of the genre, the author, or the plot. In the discussion that follows, I examine the literary depiction of these social circles in more detail.

A. Defining a Woman’s Social Network

I first consider what opportunities women have to interact with other women in the comedies, since access is a necessary precondition for creating friendships or otherwise drawing social support. Access to other women is greatly affected by a woman’s social status, for which reason my discussion necessarily treats women of different classes and ages separately. Indeed it is a literary convention of Old and New Comedy to depict men and especially women by stock- types. The female characters in comedy are variations on the theme of married citizen, old widow, unmarried citizen girl, nurse, courtesan, slave, etc.64 The female characters are often given lines and mannerisms to identify them as a member of one of these categories. In the performance, there would have been visual signifiers such as costume, props, and masks as well.

Because of the literary conventions depicting women by social category, my analysis often follows the same lines.

In several New Comedies, a women’s circle of friends is limited to the other women in her household. Whereas Old Comedy often looks at the polis as a whole, New Comedy is concerned with the microcosm of the oikos, and because of this the dramatic setting of New

Comedy is usually a single street with entrances to two houses. In Plautus’ Bacchides, one of these houses belongs to the two sisters for whom the play is named, and they are the only female characters in the story. Because of their courtesan status, comic convention allows them to appear onstage as major characters. Their profession might also account for why they are not

64 Duckworth 1994: 236-71 discusses stock types in New Comedy, with particular attention to female characters at 253-61.

shown to have other female friends in the play, since the plot focuses on their interaction with their male customers. The sisters are an example of the most limited kind of women’s network in that they only have each other. Thais, the courtesan of Terence’s Eunuch, is the head of a household that includes several handmaids, a nurse, and her adopted sister, who is really an

Athenian citizen. While these women interact mostly with each other, Thais does accompany her lovers to dinner parties where she encounters other hetairai. Thus the women of this house have a mostly internal social group, but Thais has connections to a wider sphere. Other plays that exhibit this same pattern – a courtesan-headed household where the women’s network is limited to a single household – are Plautus’ Asinaria, Curculio, Mostellaria, and Persa.

There are also several New Comedies in which women of citizen status, for various reasons, have little to no interaction with women outside of their household. Menander’s

Phasma, Plautus’ Amphitryon, Aulularia, Poenulus, Sikyonios, and Stichus, and Terence’s

Adelphoe and Andria fall into this category. Often the women’s lack of outside friends is not of significance, but merely the result of the limited focus of the play. In some plays, however, the women’s isolation is a major plot point upon which the story hinges. In such households, the citizen women might become more dependant than usual upon slaves, for whom it is more socially acceptable to appear in public and interact with non-related men. In Terence’s Adelphoe, where an old widow lives with her unmarried daughter, the citizen women rely on their two slaves to run errands outside of the house, fetch the midwife, and take messages to the girl’s betrothed. One slave is male and one is female, but they enjoy equal freedom of movement outside the home, in contrast to the citizen women. In the Andria of Terence, the marriageable

Glycerium is dependent upon her maid, Mysis, in much the same way. The play opens just after the death of Glycerium’s sister, which Terence uses to highlight Glycerium’s newfound isolation

and her increasing dependence upon Mysis. Metics and other non-citizen women experience freedoms similar to that of slaves. The hairdresser, Syra, of Plautus’ Truculentus comes into contact with many women from various classes by virtue of her profession. One of her customers, a citizen woman, turns to Syra for help in getting rid of a baby, which Syra then passes off to a courtesan, who is looking to adopt (401-9). Syra’s wider sphere of contact allows her to arrange the baby’s adoption, something that the citizen mother would not have been able to do. When a playwright calls attention to the extremely limited number of contacts for a citizen woman, as in the Adelphoe and Andria, it shows us that, in the literary world of New Comedy, one would normally expect her to have connections outside the household, but not as much freedom as a slave or metic.

Although women of the same household often form a close bond, this is not always the case. For example, in Plautus’ Epidicus two women share a roof but do not speak with one another. The master of the house, Periphanes, has been tricked into buying a music girl who he thinks is his long-lost daughter, while his son has purchased a music girl who actually is the long-lost daughter. Periphanes decides to keep the two girls apart on the grounds that a good citizen girl should not have any interaction with a music girl (400-3). Although many of my examples thus far show close bonds between citizen women and their maids, it should be noted that their relationship is still that of mistress and slave: in Plautus’ Asinaria, the citizen wife

Artemona expresses regret that she tortured her maids on suspicion of theft, but they turned out to be innocent (888-89). The fact that a mistress retains the right of corporal punishment over her slaves, whether or not she exercises it, must affect the nature of their relationship.

In addition to forming friendships within the household, citizen women might form relationships with the women of households connected by marriage. After the wedding has

merged the two families of Menander’s Dyskolos, Kallipides tells Gorgias, τὴν μητέρα | ἤδη σύ

δεῦρο τήν τ’ ἀδελφὴν μετάγαγε | πρὸς τὰς γυναῖκας τὰς παρ’ ἡμῖν (“Now bring your mother and sister over here to our womenfolk,” 847-49). A wedding is grounds for an introduction and the possibility of new friendship. In the Phormio of Terence, this familiarity is exploited when the matriarch of one household is sent by her husband to talk with her new daughter-in-law to try to resolve a problem (726), as discussed in the introduction. The Hecyra of Terence shows us the potential difficulty of melding two families when the mother of the groom repeatedly fails to reach out to her new daughter-in-law and vice versa. Instead, the new bride takes refuge in her natal house with her own mother when she is in need of support. The male characters suggest that tension between a new bride and her mother-in-law is normal (201), but still cause for criticism (229-32). The marriage created a potential for new friendships between the two houses, but that potential has not been fulfilled. These three examples show us that a marriage links the women of two households, but does not determine what kind of relationship they will come to have with each other.

Many plays show us the friendships of women who are not linked by a marriage or shared roof, but do live near each other. The dramatic setting of a New Comedy is often two neighboring houses, and the relationships between the members of the households play out in a variety of ways. In Plautus’ Casina and Menander’s Georgos, we see citizen women who are friends with their citizen neighbors. Likewise, courtesan women can be friends with their courtesan neighbors, as in Plautus’ Cistellaria and Miles Gloriosus. Several plots involve a household of citizen women befriending the concubine, as in Menander’s Samia and

Perikeiromene, and Terence’s Heautontimoroumenos. In the Samia, Epitrepontes, and Plautus’

Truculentus, these women of courtesan or concubine status work together with citizen women

for the common goal of protecting a baby. 65 In the Hecyra, the courtesan and citizen women experience a tension that is eventually resolved by the efforts of the courtesan, who repairs the relationship between the young girl and her husband. In the Epitrepontes, the courtesan

Habrotonon initiates a friendly relationship with the citizen girl in an effort to repair the relationship between the girl and her husband, formerly Habrotonon’s lover. The Cistellaria provides an example of the more normal animosity between the classes, rather than cooperation: the courtesan Syra gives a drunken speech encouraging women of her class (ordo, 23) to stick together in the way that well-born citizen women (summo genera gnatas, summatis matronas,

25) stick together. In addition to her tone of disdain when describing the matronae, she also points to invidia between the classes (28).

Taken together, these examples show us that, although citizen women often form friendships with neighboring concubines, the relationship between citizens and working hetairai or meretrices ranges from cooperative to hostile. This is likely due to the difference in the role that concubines and courtesans play in a household: whereas a concubine may have an exclusive relationship with widowed or divorced man and live with him as mistress of the house, a courtesan is often employed by a married man or an eligible bachelor whose family seeks to maneuver him into a respectable citizen marriage. In other words, concubines have no female citizen rivals, but courtesans usually do. The social relationships between women are also affected by the social relationships between the men of those households. In some of these examples, such as the Samia and Epitrepontes, the young man of one household eventually marries the daughter of the other, which could potentially strengthen the ties between the

65 I use the English “courtesan” to refer to Greek ἑταἷραι and Latin meretrices. I use the English “concubine” to refer to Greek παλλακαί and Latin paelices. Chrysis of the Samia is a παλλακή, enjoying an exclusive relationship with her partner, which makes her situation quite different from that of the ἑταἷραι in the Epitrepontes and the Truculentus, who are prostitutes for hire.

women. In other plays, the men of the two neighboring households are also friends, allowing for the possibility of interplay between the men’s friendships and the women’s.

The Rudens of Plautus is an outlier because in that play extraordinary circumstances have created a network of complete strangers. A citizen girl, Palaestra, was kidnapped and enslaved as a youth and so met and befriended fellow slave Ampelisca. Both girls, upon being shipwrecked, sought and received aid from a temple priestess (280-83). The play gives us an interesting insight into the obligation women may feel to protect strangers in need, and the ease with which a bond might be formed between two young girls in a desperate situation.

The previous examples looked at the lives of courtesans, slaves, and married citizen women, but touched only briefly on the lives of unmarried citizen daughters. The opportunities for a girl to interact with women outside of her own home were limited because she was closely guarded by family members who were invested in her reputation. McGinn explains that “a woman’s honor depends to an important degree on her sexual conduct or, more exactly, on the community’s estimation of this.” Because of its bearing on family honor, “female chastity tends to serve as a prime indicator of social worth.”66 This is illustrated in Menander’s Dyskolos when

Daos explains that every κόρη needs φυλακή when in public:

ἀλλά σ᾽, ὦ Κνήμων, κακὸν κακῶς ἃπαντες ἀπολέσειαν οἱ θεοί. ἄκακον κόρην μόνην ἀφεὶς ἐν ἐρημίαι ἐᾷς, φυλακὴν οὐδεμίαν ὡς προσῆκον ἦν ποιούμενος.67 (220-24)

But you, Knemon, evil thing, may all the gods destroy you wretchedly! You let an innocent korē go out alone, in solitude, without giving her a guardian as is fitting.

Similarly, Periphanes of the Epidicus states that his newly found daughter must be locked up: in aediculam instanc sorsum concludi volo (“I want her shut up in that little room apart [from the

66 McGinn 1998: 10. 67 Text of Menander is from Sandbach 1972 unless otherwise noted.

music girl]” 402). The protection of the kore may be in the best interest of her kyrios, the citizen male (usually her father, nearest male relative, or husband) who is responsible for entering legal contracts, such as marriage, on her behalf.68 A woman’s kyrios controls her sexual partners, and it is a crime against the kyrios to have sexual relations with a woman without the consent of her kyrios.69

For the most part, only married women, widows, and non-citizen women appear onstage in extant comedy: because of dramatic realism, unmarried citizen girls remained offstage because they could not appear in public, where most of the dramatic action takes place.70

Exceptions include Menander’s Dyskolos, where the family lives out in the country, for which reason there is less need to keep her closely guarded. The other exception is the character of foundling, whose citizen status is unknown or disregarded, because of which she is treated as a slave. The citizen girl of the Eunuch is treated differently by those who think she is a slave and by those who think she is a citizen: she appears on stage when escorted to Thais’ house by

Gnatho, who thinks she is a slave (273-74). Once in Thais’ care, she is treated as a citizen virgo and kept indoors by Thais, who instructs her maids to watch over the girl (505). The kore of

Menander’s Samia is never seen in the flesh, but her actions are reported to the audience by the other characters. Likewise, the Adelphoe of Terence shows us only the matrona and her two slaves, even though the virgo and her plight is the crux of the plot.

Menander’s Phasma, however, shows an interesting twist to the usual protection of the kore:

68 On the role of the kyrios, see Harrison 1998: 108-15 and Omitowoju 2002: 117-122. 69 Omitowoju 2002: 119-122. Examples of his consent include when a kyrios has given his charge to a man in marriage, or when a kyrios prostitutes his charge. A rape of an unmarried girl is usually an infraction against her father, and adultery with a married woman is usually an infraction against her husband. 70 Hunter 1985: 90.

τρεφομ]ένη καὶ φυλαττομένη κόρη ἁνὴρ ὅταν ἔλθηι] δεῦρο· τὸν δ’ ἄλλον χρόνον, ὅτ’ ὄικετ’ εἰς ἀγρὸ]ν φυλακῆς τ’ ἐλάττονος χρεία ᾽στιν, ἣν εἴλη]χεν οἰκίαν τότε εἴωθε καταλιπεῖν]71 (14-18)

… the girl, [rais]ed [in secret?] and guarded, [when the man of the house is] here; but at other times, [when he goes out to the field] and [there is] less [need for] the safeguards, then [she is accustomed to leave behind] her allotted quarters.

If there is any doubt as to the content of lines 17 and 18 because of the lacunae, the following lines discuss how the girl makes appearances as a phasma. This, coupled with the extant parts of lines 14 through 18, makes the sense clear: she is guarded when [someone] is here, more free to move about when he[?] is not. As to the identity of that someone, I accept Kock’s supplement of

ἁνὴρ in line 15, referring to the man of the house, presumably the girl’s father.72 This shows us that the protection of a kore is of the highest priority to her father (or kyrios); when he is away, the rest of the family may have different priorities. Although the girl and her mother may worry about rape or seduction as much as her father (and rape is a very real danger for an unmarried girl in her prime), perhaps they consider the girl’s need for social contact important enough to lessen her protections. The protection of the kore becomes a central plot point in New Comedy because the playwright must come up with plausible excuses for a young man to see and fall in love with her. Indeed, it might be that the laxness with which the mother guards her daughter in the Phasma is precisely in service of this comic need and we should read no more into it.

Because of this we know that the frequent liaisons of New Comedy are not a reflection of social reality: Menander has already established that the seclusion of the kore is the norm, and now the poets must find believable ways to stage an abnormal situation.

71 Text is from Sandbach 1972, with supplements by various scholars. 72 Edmonds 1957: 750.

The picture offered by Old Comedy is quite different from that of New Comedy. Few

Aristophanic plays center on one household, and even then that household is a metaphor for problems within the whole polis, as with the Knights and Wasps. The plays that show us a network of women, the Lysistrata, Thesmophoriazusae, and Ecclesiazusae, do not limit their action to one or two households. In these plays there is a very large circle of women interacting and collaborating with women from the entire polis and even neighboring poleis. The network can be so large that it is unrealistic: Praxagora of the Ecclesiazusae seems to know every woman in Athens, and the title character of Lysistrata is friends with Lampito all the way from Sparta.

Where Aristophanes offers the extreme, and fantastic, example of an Athenian woman whose friends span all Attica and the Peloponnese, New Comedy offers the other extreme, equally fantastic, where a woman’s network is limited to one household. The Adelphoe and the

Lysistrata demonstrate the geographical range of a woman’s possible network, but each is an exaggeration determined by comic convention. The audience’s expectation for a “normal” female network falls somewhere in between.

Just as the married women of Aristophanes were shown to have an unusually large circle of friends, they are also freer to move about outside the home than the women of New Comedy.

The women of Ecclesiazusae roam the entire city, but the family of the Adelphoe is confined to their house. The plots of Aristophanes necessitate this freedom, and the characters call attention to the conflict between the women’s freedom and societal norms. The women of the

Ecclesiazusae must make excuses that allow them to leave their husbands and homes and enter the streets (526-29). The koryphaia of the Thesmophoriazusae explains that the women’s freedom creates tension in the home: when women go out, their husbands get angry (μανίας

μαίνεσθ’, 793), and when women stay over night at a friend’s house, their husbands get anxious

(796). Her speech (785-845, but particularly 785-99) suggests that married women do leave the house freely, but this causes men great consternation. The introductory monologue of the Samia shows that the concubine Chrysis went next door often, but the married women came over to her house less frequently (35-38). As Gomme and Sandbach put it, “gadding about would less befit a married woman with a grown daughter.”73 Perhaps this standard in New Comedy is also the understood standard for Old Comedy, but exceptions are made to fit the Aristophanic plots.

B. Occasions for Women to Congregate

Up to this point I have been discussing the make-up of female social circles. Next I address the activities of which women partake together in the world of comedy.74 In the comedies, acceptable reasons for women to gather in public en masse are limited to religious celebrations: the Thesmophoria in the Thesmophoriazusae (also Eccl. 223a, 443; Epit. 749); revels for Bacchus, Pan, and Genetyllis (Lys. 1-2); a gathering at the Parthenon (Lys. 176); a rooftop revel for Adonis (Lys. 389); the Brauronia (Lys. 645, Phasm. 97, 104); basket-carriers in the Panathenaea (Lys. 646-47); the Skira (Eccl. 18, 59; Epit. 750); the Dionysia (Cist. 89, 156); the Tauropoleia (Epit. 451, 863, 1119); the Aphrodisia (Poen. 1133); and a parade and feast for

Artemis at Ephesus (Kith. 94-95). Women can also gather in public for funeral rites (Lys. 612-

13). The women of the Ecclesiazusae must all pretend to be men in order to enter the assembly, and the women of the Lysistrata must frame their gathering as a religious one by making their headquarters at the goddess’ temple on the acropolis (241). Often a religious gathering is simply a background plot detail, as in the Menander examples, and gets only a casual mention.

73 Gomme and Sandbach 1973: ad 35-38. 74 For a wider social-historical survey, including evidence of many literary genres, see Blok 2001: 110-15.

Although we know that all-female festivals really did take place in ancient Athens and

Rome,75 the particular religious gatherings mentioned in comedy are often chosen deliberately to portray a stereotype of women. As Winkler says, “[t]he texts, meager as they are, which speak of women’s rituals and gatherings ... must be used with the customary caution, since their attitude to women’s independent operations is likely to be colored by anxiety, suspicion, or contempt.”76

Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazusae shows us one man’s wildly imaginative rendition of events at the famous festival for Demeter. In his version, the main events are drinking (630), drinking

(631), and complaining about men (378). This representation can hardly be taken as reality; rather, it uses the stereotype of women as lushes and gossips to belittle females.77 Other religious festivals are depicted as opportunities for women to practice their hypersexuality, another derogatory stereotype: in the opening lines of the Lysistrata, the title character jokes that the women would never be late if she had called them to a Bacchanalia, to Pan’s shrine, or to a gathering for Genetyllis (1-2). While women probably do gather for religious ceremonies in honor of these gods, Aristophanes chose these specific examples because of their association with sexuality and procreation. Likewise, when Moschion says that Chrysis hosted an Adonia at her house (Samia 39), Menander has specifically chosen a festival with erotic connotations as fitting for a former hetaira to host.78

75 See Dillon 2002: 109-138 for a summary and discussion of the public, all-female festivals in Classical and Hellenistic Athens, including the Stenia, the Thesmophoria, the Haloa, and the Skira. Schultz 1999: 21 evaluates women’s religious roles in Republican Rome, demonstrating that their activities were not limited to all-female cults or fertility rituals, nor does this even comprise the majority of women’s public religious activity. 76 Winkler 1990: 188. 77 See Oeri 1948: 13-18 on the comic motif of women as lushes; Austin and Olson 2004: ad 630 for a catalogue of passages depicting this motif; and McClure 1999: 56-62 on the presentation of women as gossips in literature. 78 Gomme and Sandbach 1973: ad 39.

Reading past the stereotypes, these accounts suggest that it was socially acceptable for

Greek (and Roman) women to gather to celebrate mystery rites for goddesses. In New Comedy, women gather at religious festivals because it is a necessary plot device: because the festivals are public, and it is one occasion when unmarried girls are allowed out of the house, these events provide the rare opportunity for the young man to see, fall in lust with, and rape the unmarried citizen girl. For example, Charisios of the Epitrepontes gains access to Pamphile while she is on her way to the festival of the Tauropolia (451).79 Pamphilus, of Terence’s Hecyra, raped

Philumena one night in via (828); we do not know what this young, unmarried, citizen girl was doing in the streets at night, but she was probably with a group of other women – she certainly would not have been allowed out alone – and given that they were out at night, they were mostly likely participating in a religious festival.

The comedies also show us that women hosted smaller religious festivals in their homes, inviting perhaps dozens of neighbors and friends, but not the entire polis. As noted above,

Chrysis, the concubine of the Samia, hosts a festival for Adonis in her home (39), and the koryphaia of Lysistrata informs a meddling man that she hosted a party at her house for neighborhood women in honor of Hecate (700). Such gatherings show us that there were acceptable occasions for women to gather at a private dwelling for an all-female party, attended by many women from around the neighborhood. Although religious in purpose, such parties certainly would have certainly served as social gatherings, too, and not just as solemn occasions.

Deubner argues that Athenian women had forgotten the original, erotic connotation of the

79 Furley 2009: ad 542 traces the trope of the παννύχις rape from Euripides through Middle Comedy and Menander. Omitowoju 2002: 175-76 argues that, although the topos is colored by literary needs, it may nonetheless reflect contemporary male attitudes towards rape: while they recognize that there are strict legal penalties for the crime, in reality, as in comedy, men may treat rape lightly because they knew they would escape punishment.

Adonia festival, and the gathering at Chrysis’ house was simply an excuse for the women to throw a party.80

There were more opportunities for widows, older women, and slaves to interact in public on a smaller scale, by working in the market or running errands. An old woman in the Lysistrata sells wares at the market (456-61); Aristophanes refers to Euripides’ mother as a vegetable-seller

(Thesm. 387, 456; Ach. 478); and a widow introduces herself as a garland-seller (Thesm. 448).81

Their comparative freedom is due in part to the role of the kyrios, the male relative who is legally in charge of a citizen woman: a kyrios might guard a young girl closely to prevent her from having the opportunity to conceive illegitimate children or acquire a negative reputation, but he has little need to limit the public appearances of a widow or old woman past childbearing age.82

There is no need to place such restrictions on the movements of slaves, and they are often sent on errands during which they might interact with men and women of citizen or non-citizen class:

Canthara goes to fetch a midwife (Ad. 353-54); Syra is sent to see her mistress’ father (Merc.

803-4); Ampelisca is sent to the house of an unrelated man to fetch water (Rud. 430); and

Glykera sends her servant Doris out on errands (Pk. 154). The social license to sell things at the market or run errands gives widows, old women, and slaves the opportunity to interact with

80 Deubner 1969: 220-21. 81 See Lacey 1980: 170-72 for a brief discussion of the circumstances in which citizen women worked outside the household. A major contributing factor was poverty, and although citizen women were limited to making contracts of no more than the value of one medimnos, work in the marketplace could still provide enough money to feed her family. Lacey notes that the economic activities for foreign women and slaves were not as limited and could include work as a courtesan or music girl. 82 See Lacey 1980: 159 on the close guardianship of unwed girls and young wives, and 175 on the comparative freedom of older women. Lysias 1.6 offers an example of the virtual imprisonment of newly married women: Euphiletus says that when he first married, he kept a close watch on his wife, as much as was possible, and restricted her freedom (“it seemed good to me … that she not have license to do whatever she wished”). He eased his restrictions after their first child was born because he decided its existence made her more trustworthy.

women outside of the household, although the comedies do not show us any friendships formed on the basis of these opportunities.83 Susan Lape has convincingly demonstrated that New

Comedy is concerned with citizen marriage and its reproductive capacity, and therefore it should come as no surprise that the actions and relationships of the older women and slaves are not explored in the plays.84

There are a number of occasions for women to get together in private homes in pairs or small groups, and these kinds of interactions are often in the background of the plays. The occasion for such gatherings can be daily chores, special activities like weddings and childbearing, or the meeting can be purely social. There is a social element to even chore dates, since collaboration is social by nature. We see women getting together for their mundane chores, like bathing (Bacc. 105; Poen. 218-31; Most. 157-59), and weaving (Cas. 168-70; Sam. 234).

Bathing can also be a service provided for a girl by her handmaids (Eun. 595, Poen. 222-24).

Myrrhina of the Casina even gives us her reason for turning work into a social occasion: she informs her maids that if she works at home (alone), she falls asleep at the loom, and so prefers to go next door to weave with a friend (168-70). The women of the bride’s and groom’s households work together to prepare for weddings (Sam. 220-22) and are expected to get together to plan weddings (Cas. 546-49). The wedding activities that women partake of together include celebrating the upcoming nuptials with an all-night party (Dysk. 857, 950-53), bathing

83 A parallel example can be found in Lysias 1.8, in which maids and old hags serve as the point of contact between citizen woman and the outside world. When Eratosthenes has taken a liking to Euphiletus’ wife, he watches out for the woman’s servant girl at the market in order to pass a message through her. Later, an old hag comes to visit Euphiletus to deliver a warning from another citizen woman, one who has also had an affair with Eratosthenes. In both examples, the citizen women rely on the servants’ freedom – freedom to come and go as they please and interact with citizen men – to circumvent a system that is designed to keep unrelated citizen men and women from communicating. 84 Lape 2004: 9-10.

the bride (Sam. 124) or groom (Sam. 729-32) in a ritual bath, watching wedding games (Cas.

855-56), and eating at the feast (Cas. 780-81). There does not need to be a wedding for women to eat together: a husband in the Ecclesiazusae suggests that his missing wife must have been invited to a friend’s house for breakfast (348-49).

A married woman, perhaps only one who has given birth or attended to a birth, can be called upon at any time to be a midwife (Lys. 746, Eccl. 528-29, Cist. 141, Mil. 697, Truc. 130-

31, And. 299). A woman serving as a midwife could expect compensation, in the form of gifts or money: a husband in the Miles Gloriosus says that his wife sent a little something (parum, 697) to the midwife, and the context shows that this parum is a munus (691 and 695). A passage from the Ecclesiazusae implies that the midwife receives greater compensation if the baby is a boy

(549).85 It appears, then, that this social interaction both brought monetary reward and strengthened one’s ties to the community.

A woman might also be called upon to be a wet nurse, a role that can bring long-term ties to a family. The wet nurse can work along side the birth mother, as in the Thesmophoriazusae

(609) and Truculentus (448). Two passages indicate that a wet nurse receives compensation for her services: a matrona tells her husband that she needs to send a gift to the nutrix (Mil. 698), and, similarly, the courtesan Phronesium tells her lover that she needs money to fulfill their child’s needs, including the need for a nurse (Truc. 903). The courtesan Chrysis becomes wet nurse to her citizen friend’s baby (Sam. 85) not for pay, but as part of their ongoing friendship. In some instances, the nurse maintains a relationship with the family even as the children grow up

(Aul. 807, 815). The nurse of the Poenulus is kidnapped along with the children, probably for practical reasons, and stays with the girls throughout their childhood (83-90). The nurse then

85 According to the interpretations of Müller 1988 and Sommerstein 1998a: ad loc.

plays a critical role in the recognition of legitimate daughter (1122-31) because the nurse is old enough to remember the girls’ father, and the father can recognize the grown nurse better than his children, whom he has not seen since they were babies. A mother might give her child up to a nurse to rear (Phasm. 11-13), and so the nurse remains part of the child’s life but does not maintain a relationship with the mother. When trying to ascertain the identity of his sister,

Planesium, the soldier Therapontigonus asks her first for the name of her mother, then the name of her nurse (Curc. 642-43), showing us that both the mother and nurse can play a crucial role in a child’s life and identity. The slave Lampadio shows how one can easily develop a level of attachment to the nurse that is more appropriate for the mother when he says, nam illaec tibi nutrix est, ne matrem censeas (“for she is only your nurse; don’t think she is your mother,” Cist.

558). From the prologue of the Poenulus we may conclude that it was common practice to have a nutrix for one’s children because the speaker tells the audience:

nutrices pueros infantis minutulos domi ut procurent neu quae spectatum adferat, ne et ipsae sitiant et pueri pereant fame neve esurientes hic quasi haedi obvagiant.86 (28-31)

Let the nurses care for the little babes at home and not a one of them come to this play, because the nurses might go dry and the children die of starvation, or go bleating about like hungry goats.

The speaker is trying to cull the unwanted patrons from the audience by telling scorta (17), servi

(23), and nutrices to stay home, and matronae to be quiet (32); thus we may conclude that nutrices are a common occurrence. These passages show us that playing the role of the nutrix is one way in which a woman can establish ties to other women, both the mother and, when they grow up, the daughters.

86 All text of Plautus is from Lindsay 1903 unless otherwise noted.

A passage from the Ecclesiazusae shows us one particular benefit of having a network of friends. In this play, women can get together to borrow clothing, jewelry, money, or drinking cups (446-50). This is oiko-nomics in its truest form: Praxagora reports (indirectly) that women have their own system of managing available resources through trade and barter, all confined within the small-scale network of a few households. It is a self-regulating system, according to

Praxagora: the women do not cheat each other on these transactions as men do (450). This passage is, of course, part of a comic plot, and Aristophanes purposefully models the women’s economic activities after men’s, but for the sake of his plot, he shows the female version to be superior. Nonetheless, the depiction of this female economy is accepted as plausible by the characters in the play and the audience.

There are many examples from the comedies that show us the informal side of women’s friendships, where women get together simply to chat or enjoy each other’s company. The women of the Samia like each other’s company (35-37), as do neighbors Myrrhina and

Cleostrata of the Casina, so much that they routinely have sleepovers (482). Each of the two shipwrecked girls of the Rudens tells the audience that the other is a source of comfort and companionship: before finding each other after the wreck, the first says, quae mihi si foret salva saltem, labor | lenior esset hic mi eius opera (“If only she were safe, she would help make my troubles more bearable!” 202-3), and the other, once they have been reunited, says, ut me omnium iam laborum levas (“How you alleviate all of my troubles!” 247). Women show a range of emotions with their friends: the women of the Samia cry together (426), the women of the

Casina laugh together (857-58), and the women of the Asinaria (504-44) and Poenulus (210-78) argue with one another. Women discuss love (Cist. 65-75, Pers. 177-81), beauty (Most. 250-90), and an upcoming visit to a temple (Poen. 1174-86); they confide in each other and commiserate

(Georg. 22-34, Cas. 165-216; Cist. 1-13, Stich. 1-57); they conspire to achieve a common goal

(Bacch. 35-40, Cist. 757-73, Heaut. 381-400); and they resolve conflict and dispel misunderstandings through discussion (Lys. 119-237, Eccl. 93-279, Epit. 858-77, Hec. 750-60,

Phorm. 726).

These examples show us the various opportunities for women to get together and socialize, whether there is an organized activity or not. They show us an all-female economy where women barter goods and services, sometimes with money changing hands, but mostly not.

This is the network that is available to women for emotional and social support. It cannot provide long-term financial support, but it could provide a few essential services in a time of crisis as well as enduring emotional support. Although many of the specific activities and interactions are drawn from examples from a few plays, the overall picture of women’s relationships is consistent across all four authors. From this we may conclude that, although there were no examples specifically of women bathing in Aristophanes (to take but one activity as an example), this is nonetheless an acceptable behavior for Aristophanic women, too. The combined evidence represents a set of literary expectations for women’s interactions in the comic world. Certain kinds of behaviors and friendships would be expected or accepted as normal by the audience, while other behaviors must be highlighted and explained by the playwright for their unusualness.

With this literary picture in mind, I turn to part three of this chapter, in which we look in more detail at how women’s friendships operate in comedy.

C. The Role of the Social Network

In the following examples I will discuss how we are introduced to the women’s network and what importance it holds for the plot of four select plays. The examples are designed to show that the relationship between women can sometimes become a character itself, in that it serves a

purpose in the plot and receives an introduction just like any other character. In each play, the author draws attention to the value of the social connections between women.

i. Aristophanes’ Lysistrata

In the opening scene of the Lysistrata we see the group of women coming together one at a time. Since this body of women is the means by which the anti-war scheme will be carried out, it is important that the play begin by showing us who is in it and how it operates. In her first line,

Lysistrata indicates that this is an established group by referring to past activities at which they have gathered (1-3). Those with the shortest distance to travel arrive first, and those with the longest arrive last, starting with Lysistrata’s neighbor, Kalonike (5-6), who designated as a compatriot with the term ἐμὴ κωμῆτις. Soon Myrrhine appears with a group of women from a nearby Attic deme (66-67). Finally, representatives arrive from the major cities on both sides of the Peloponnesian war: representing the Athenian allies, a woman from Boeotia (86); Lampito from Sparta itself (77); and a woman from the major Spartan ally of Corinth (91). The larger group, which Lysistrata is organizing for political reasons, is created by combining smaller social networks: Kalonike is Lysistrata’s κωμῆτις and apparently a personal friend (a judgment which I make based on the familiar tone of their conversation); Myrrhine and Lampito each arrive with their own set of companions; and Lampito introduces Lysistrata to the spokeswomen from

Corinth and Thebes. By introducing their friends to each other, the women use their existing social connections to forge a larger political body that spans a very large geographical area indeed.

Once the group is complete, Lysistrata explains her plan to end the war through the combined effort of the women. The network is essential both in disseminating information about

her plan and in its implementation. The group takes on a more formal unity when they all swear an oath to abstain from sex with their husbands (209-37). Since Lysistrata’s main weapon is to deprive the men of sex, it requires the cooperation of all women, united on the basis of gender, to carry it out. For this weapon to be most effective, it must be deployed against both sides, which is why it is so important that Lysistrata has friends from all poleis. The scale of her connections, however, is unrealistic, and constitutes the great fantasy of the play. Aristophanes must show us how Lysistrata builds her unusual network in the opening scene because it is the means by which the plot is carried out, but as it is not immediately believable, it must be explained. He addresses this problem by modeling the fantastic (large-scale) network on the normal (local) network of an ordinary woman. ii. Menander’s Samia

In Menander’s Samia the closeness of the women’s network facilitates the plot: it is the means by which the interpersonal problems between the male characters are created and, ultimately, solved. Menander defines the members of this particular women’s group, what purpose it serves for the women, and how the men view the friendship and benefit from it.

In Moschion’s introductory monologue, which gives us the crucial background information needed to understand the action of the play, the description of the women’s network signals that it will be central to the action. His speech is fragmentary, missing nine to eleven lines in the beginning, twenty-three lines in the middle, and the beginning of several other lines besides. After the central lacuna, the surviving text picks up in the middle of our introduction to the women. Moschion tells us the key characters in this network include a κόρη, her mother, and his father’s Samian woman (lines 35-36). Their extended circle consists of “some other women”

(τινων | [ἄλλω]ν γυναικῶν, 40-41). The purpose of introducing these women is twofold: in the

latter part of his introduction, Moschion tells us about the women’s gathering at the festival of

Adonia in order to explain how he got into trouble by raping the κόρη, Plangon. The first part of his story, however, focuses purely on how close the women are to each other. He says,

φ]ιλανθρώπως δὲ πρὸς τὴν πατρὸς Σαμί]α̣ν̣ διέκειθ’ ἡ τῆς κόρης μήτηρ, τά τε πλεῖστ’ ἦν παρ’ αὐταῖς ἥδε, καὶ πάλιν ποτὲ αὗται παρ’ ἡμῖν. (35-38)

The mother of the girl was friendly towards my father’s Samian girl; she would often be at their house, and in turn they would sometimes come to ours.

Although the network is part of the story of the rape, the women’s friendship will also be central to the story later on, when the women work together to protect each other and the baby that has been born out of wedlock to Plangon and Moschion. For this reason, Menander has included in his introduction an indication of their close ties.

The social bond between the women creates an emotional support group, which the characters rely upon in turns as the action unfolds. In order to protect the young lovers, Chrysis pretends that she is the mother of a baby, who in reality is the son of Moschion and Plangon.

When Demeas sees the baby, he assumes that Chrysis has taken up a child that he fathered, and in doing so has officially recognized the child in the way that only he has the right to do.87 When he throws her out of their house, she goes to the neighbors’ house, crying. Nikeratos, head of this household and father of Plangon, receives her at the door and immediately sends her off to the womenfolk with the express purpose of cheering her up: πρὸς τὴν γυναῖκα δεῦρ’ ἀκολούθει

87 MacDowell 1978: 91 and Harrison 1998: 70-71 explain that when an Athenian child was born, it was customary for the father to formally acknowledge or reject it. Such acknowledgement was necessary for the child to become part of his father’s oikos and deme, which entitles the baby to certain resources in his father’s house and privileges in the polis. Since Demeas already has a legitimate son, Moschion, recognition of Chrysis’ baby would diminish Moschion’s share of the estate and threaten his livelihood (Lacey 1980: 164-65). Furthermore, according to the Periclean Marriage Law of 451/0 (re-enacted in 403/2), a child of a foreign woman and a citizen man was not a citizen. It is possible that a father who enrolled an illegitimate child in a deme would suffer legal consequences (Harrison 1998: 68-70).

τὴν ἐμήν. | θάρρει· (“Come with me to see my wife. Cheer up!” 418-419). He feels that when a woman is in distress, her suffering can best be alleviated by other women. Whatever her emotional state, when a man finds a female neighbor at his door, the proper response is to send her in to see his wife. He recognizes that it is inappropriate for a man to prolong an interaction with her, and it is appropriate for a woman to seek comfort from her female friends.

The women of the Samia have a bond such that when one member of the group suffers, all of the women in the group suffer. After learning of Chrysis’ predicament, Nikeratos reports,

δάκρυα γίνεθ’, αἱ γυναῖκες τεθορύβηνται (“There were tears [all around],88 the women were in uproar,” 426). Nikeratos recognizes that the emotional trauma suffered by Chrysis creates an emotional trauma for all the women in her circle of friends, and he intercedes with Demeas on their behalf. He says, Δημέας | σκατοφαγεῖ. νὴ τὸν Ποσειδῶ καὶ θεούς, οἰμώξεται | σκαιός

ὤν (“That shit-eating Demeas! By Poseidon and the gods, he’ll be sorry, the unlucky man,” 426-

28). While Nikeratos is surprised when Chrysis shows up at his door in distress, he only becomes angry when all of the women get upset. His indignation on their behalf shows that he recognizes the seriousness of Demeas’ crime, which now has the potential to destabilize the whole group of women.89 Nikeratos’ wife and daughter are upset for their friend, and perhaps for themselves: if

Chrysis no longer has a relationship with Demeas, she will likely have to leave the neighborhood and her friends behind.

Nikeratos sees Demeas as the original cause of this destabilization, and understands that in order to put the friendship back together, he must restore Chrysis to her place as pallake of

88 Although the women (plural) are not the stated subject until the second clause, they should be taken also as the producers of the tears in the first clause, rather than just Chrysis (the subject from the previous sentence). 89 Gomme and Sandbach 1973 ad 421-8 say that Nikeratos is upset not over Demeas’ treatment of Chrysis, but because his actions have caused the women to cease their wedding preparations, which Nikeratos takes as a bad omen. I believe the passage allows for both interpretations.

Demeas. Although Chrysis is a mere pallake, and not a citizen wife, she is anything but a temporary and unimportant member of Demeas’ household. Rather, Menander shows us that she is quasi-permanent member of the family and an integral part of the inter-oikos dynamic. Traill says of Chrysis, “she has a sincere commitment to the household as a whole and not just to

Demeas.”90 Chrysis is also central to the relationships of the play: she intercedes to help her friends, which jeopardizes her relationship with Demeas, which creates turmoil among the women, which makes Nikeratos angry with Demeas. Nikeratos decides to confront his friend, seeking an explanation for his actions and hoping to repair all of the injured relationships. The interaction between these women plays a major role in the plot because it creates the complications and misunderstandings that stand in the way of an easy resolution, but ultimately makes the happy ending possible by protecting the baby and the marriage of the young couple. iii. Plautus’ Casina

Nikeratos, when threatened with a destabilizing women’s network, decided to take action in order to put things right. In the Casina we have the opposite situation: when presented with a stable women’s network, the men of two households use and abuse that stability to have secret liaisons with courtesans. The strength of the women’s friendship deserves comment in and of itself, as their interactions give us the opportunity to see women discussing the emotional and social support they receive from other women.

In the Casina there are two households, of which Cleostrata is the matriarch of one, and

Myrrhina is the matriarch of the other. Cleostrata’s husband and son are both trying to marry a pretty slave girl, Casina, to their respective male attendants so as to increase their access to her.

Cleostrata is not unaware of her husband’s plans, so she becomes an ally to her son in the hopes

90 Traill 2008: 156.

that this will keep Casina away from her husband. She seeks out her neighbor and friend for comfort:

{CLEOSTRATA} Myrrhina, salve. 171 {MYRRHINA} salve mecastor. sed quid tu es tristis, amabo? 172-3 {CL} ita solent omnes quae sunt male nuptae: 174-5 domi et foris aegre quod siet sati’ semper est. 176-7 nam ego ibam ad te. MY. et pol ego isto ad te. sed quid est quod tuo nunc animo aegrest? nam quod tibi est aegre, idem mist dividiae. 180-81 {CL} credo, ecastor, nam vicinam neminem amo merito magi’ quam te nec qua in plura sunt 183 mihi quae ego velim. 183a

{CLEOSTRATA} Greetings, Myrrhina. {MYRRHINA} Greetings, by Castor. Why are you so sad, dear? {CL} All the usual reasons which plague married women: at home and away there are always enough things to go poorly. I was just coming to your house. {MY} Gee, I was just coming to yours. But what is it? What is not well in your heart? For whatever is not well with you, is likewise a concern for me. {CL} I believe you, by Castor. For there is no neighbor I love more than you, and rightly so, nor anyone in whom there are more good qualities which I would desire for myself.

This scene shows us that Cleostrata and Myrrhina are neighbors who have an established friendship, who count on each other for support, and when one suffers, the other suffers on her behalf, much like the women in Menander’s Samia, discussed above, except in this case both women are matronae and so they support each other as social equals. This scene establishes the closeness of these two women, the emotional dependence that they express openly for each other, and their solidarity. The Casina conversation is similar to one that takes place in

Menander’s Georgos between Myrrhine and her neighbor Philinna. Myrrhine says, ἀ]λλ’ ὡς

πρὸς εὔνουν, ὦ Φίλιννα, τοὺς λόγους | π]οουμένη σε πάντα τἀμαυτῆς λέγω· | ἐν τ]οῖσδ’

ἐγὼ νῦν εἰμι (“Because you are friendly, Philinna, I’m telling you these things and all of my troubles. I’m now in this predicament,” 22-24). Philinna responds with a show of solidarity by promising to give the problematic young man a good talking to (24-27).

The close friendship of Cleostrata and Myrrhina is exploited by their husbands when

Lysidamus, Cleostrata’s husband, seeks some private time with the slave girl, Casina. Lysidamus casually suggests to Cleostrata that she invite Myrrhina over for a visit, thereby freeing up

Myrrhina’s house for his secret liaison. No one thinks twice about this suggestion, until

Cleostrata first uncovers the ulterior motive:

hoc erat ecastor quod me vir tanto opere orabat meus, ut properarem arcessere hanc ad me uicinam meam, liberae aedes ut sibi essent Casinam quo deducerent. nunc adeo nequaquam arcessam, ignavissumis liberi loci potestas sit, vetulis vervecibus. sed eccum egreditur, senati columen, praesidium popli, meu’ vicinus, meo viro qui liberum praehibet locum. non ecastor vilis emptu’st modius qui venit salis. (531-38)

By Castor, this was why my husband was entreating me so energetically to hurry up and call my neighbor over to our house, so that that house would be free and he could bring in Casina. Now there is no way I will invite her, lest there be the opportunity of a free house for those exceedingly lazy, shriveled, old muttonheads. But look, here it comes, the pillar of the senate, the bulwark of the people, my neighbor, who provides a free place for my husband. By Castor, the man who approaches is not worth much, no more than a grain of salt.

Cleostrata understands the men’s plan and the mechanism by which they hope to carry it out. At first she thought nothing of the insistence that she invite over her neighbor, and probably would have done so, had she not grown suspicious. Instead, Cleostrata must explain to the perplexed

Alcesimus why, contrary to the reasonable expectation created by her husband, she does not intend to invite Myrrhina to her house today:

{CLEOSTRATA} ubi tua uxor? {ALCESIMUS} intus illa te, si se arcessas, manet; nam tuo’ vir me oravit, ut eam isto ad te adiutum mitterem. vin vocem? {CL} sine eam: te nolo, si occupata est. {AL} otium est. {CL} nil moror, molesta ei esse nolo; post convenero. {AL} non ornatis isti apud vos nuptias? {CL} orno et paro. {AL} non ergo opus est adiutrice? {CL} sati’ domist: ubi nuptiae fuerint, tum istam convenibo. nunc vale atque istanc iube. (542-48)

{CLEOSTRATA} Where is your wife?

{ALCESIMUS} She is inside, waiting for your invitation. Your husband begged me to send her over to you to help. Shall I call her? {CL} Let her be: I do want to disturb her if she is busy. {AL} She’s not busy! {CL} It’s not important. I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll come over later. {AL} Are you not setting up a wedding at your house? {CL} Yes, setting it up and getting things ready. {AL} Then don’t you need a helper? {CL} I’ve got plenty of help in the house. When the nuptials are done, I’ll come see her. Well, good-bye, and tell her I said hello.

Line 543 makes explicit that Alcesimus and Lysidamus have been colluding. The two men attempt to manipulate the women’s close relationship to their own advantage, but Cleostrata is more concerned with foiling her husband’s plans than heeding the expectation, created by

Lysidamus and Alcesimus, that she invite her friend over. She eschews social convention, and comic expectation, by failing to invite her neighbor over to help with wedding preparation.

Like the Samia, we see that the playwright recognizes how women interact socially, but again it is background information: the female network is shown indirectly because it obstructs the men’s love plot. In the Casina, the sincere conversation demonstrating Myrrhina and

Cleostrata’s emotional bond exists so that we, as reader (or audience), expect that the women will take advantage of opportunities to spend time together. The men then devise a plan that depends on this expectation, and use the women’s relationship to implement and attempt to carry out this plan. Throughout the play, Plautus creates humor by showing how the women resist the expectation that they will congregate at any suggestion, thereby foiling the men’s plot. The play only works if the audience understands that, normally, the women of the bride’s and groom’s households will work together to plan a wedding. Furthermore, the women’s relationship is an integral part of the men’s relationship: the women are able to become friends because their husbands are friends and neighbors; meanwhile, the men undergo a bonding experience in

attempting to manipulate the women’s network for their own benefit. Although it is not the focus of the play, the women’s relationship plays a significant role. iv. Terence’ Adelphoe

The Adelphoe is a negative case study of women’s networking because it centers around an all-female household who have no social ties to other women. The fact that Terence must explain how they became socially isolated tells us that this is not the norm; the substance of his explanation tells us what the norm is. We are shown that such women would usually have friends among their neighbors, but Sostrata and Pamphila are new to town and have not yet developed these bonds, and in-laws, but Sostrata has not yet secured a groom for marriageable daughter.

The action of the play revolves around two households: the socially isolated women, and the citizen males who must rescue them. With her husband deceased, the matrona, Sostrata, is the head of her household, which includes her unmarried daughter, Pamphila, one female slave,

Canthara, and one male slave, Geta. Next door lives a citizen male named Micio and his adopted son, Aeschinus, who has impregnated Pamphila in an act of rape but since promised to marry her. Micio’s brother Demea, the stricter of the pair of adelphoe, is biological father of Aeschinus.

Although Aeschinus has done the right thing in promising to marry Pamphila, the promise bears no real weight until he can get the approval of his father. Because Aeschinus has not yet had the courage to break the news to his father and uncle, the discretion with which he must act leads to doubts and anxieties on the part of Sostrata’s family. It is from the description of their plight that we learn in what ways their social situation is unusual.

The first thing that the character of Sostrata expresses on stage is concern for her daughter, who has already gone into labor. When Canthara asks the cause of this concern,

Sostrata replies:

miseram me, neminem habeo (solae sumus; Geta autem hic non adest). nec quem ad obstetricem mittam, nec qui accersat Aeschinum.91 (291-92)

Wretched me, I have no one (we are alone; and what’s more, Geta is not here). There is no one I can send for the midwife, no one who can summon Aeschinus.

Her distress stems from the fact that they have no one to call upon for support (emotional or physical) while Pamphila is in labor. Normally a young woman in such a state can expect neighbors and friends to come and assist with the birth and act as midwives,92 but Sostrata and

Pamphila have trouble finding someone to act in this capacity. Through the mouth of Micio

(speaking to Aeschinus), Terence gives us a clue as to how these women came to be in a situation where they “have no one:”

habitant hic quaedam mulieres pauperculae; ut opinor, eas non nosse te, et certo scio, neque enim diu huc migrarunt. (647-49)

Some rather poor women live here. I think you wouldn’t know them, in fact I know you don’t, for they moved here not long ago.

The first reason that these women have no social network is that they just moved to town and therefore have not had the chance to make friends. Their immediate neighbor is a household of men only. In their short period in town, Sostrata’s household has had some contact with her neighbors – enough to get the family into great trouble, but not enough to have a solid support group among the neighborhood women.93 The other potential pool of female friends is in-laws, but Sostrata is widowed and Pamphila is not yet married.

91 All text of Terence is from Kauer and Lindsay 1926 unless otherwise noted. 92 See above, page 45, for examples of this in comedy. While professional midwives and obstetricians did exist, the poorer classes probably relied on their female relatives or women in the community, according to French 1986: 73. 93 In fact, the “trouble” that Pamphila is in might be related to the absence of her father (and her social isolation in general): perhaps Aeschinus is able to gain access to Pamphila precisely because she does not have a male guardian living with her.

The latter half of the play deals extensively with the women’s social isolation and the moral obligation the men feel to rectify this problem. Legally, the rape of a citizen girl is a serious crime against her kyrios, which in this case is Pamphila’s nearest male relative, Hegio, and the rapist is liable to severe punishment unless he marries the girl.94 After learning the full details of the rape committed against Pamphila, Micio’s discussion with Hegio demonstrates that the men are as concerned, if not more concerned, with the crime that was committed against the girl, not her kyrios:

{MICIO} ego in hac re nil reperio quam ob rem lauder tanto opere, Hegio: meum officium facio, quod peccatum a nobis ortumst corrigo. nisi si me in illo credidisti esse hominum numero qui ita putant, sibi fieri iniuriam ultro, si quam fecere ipsi expostules, 595 et ultro accusant. id quia a me non est factum, agis gratias? {HEGIO} ah, minime: numquam te aliter atque es in animum induxi meum. sed quaeso ut una mecum ad matrem uirginis eas, Micio, atque istaec eadem quae mihi dixti tute dicas mulieri: suspicionem hanc propter fratrem ei(u)s esse et illam psaltriam. 600 {MI} si ita aequom censes aut si ita opus est facto, eamus. {HE} bene facis. nam et illi animum iam relevabis, quae dolore ac miseria tabescit, et tuo officio fueris functus. sed si aliter putas, egomet narrabo quae mihi dixti. {MI} immo ego ibo. {HE} bene facis: omnes, quibus res sunt minus secundae, mage sunt nescioquo modo 605 suspiciosi; ad contumeliam omnia accipiunt magis; propter suam inpotentiam se semper credunt claudier. quapropter te ipsum purgare ipsi coram placabilius est. {MI} et recte et verum dicis. {HE} sequere me ergo hac intro. {MI} maxume.(592-609)

{MICIO} In this matter I see no reason why I should be praised so greatly, Hegio: I am doing my duty, because I am correcting a wrong that arose from my house. Unless you believe that I am one of those men who think that some injury has been committed against them if you complain about something they did, and they in turn accuse you. Because I am not doing that, are you thanking me? {HEGIO} Ah, not at all: never have I thought that you were other than you are. But I beseech you to come together with me to the mother of the girl, Micio, and to personally

94 Cohen 1991: 105-6; Smith 1994: 22-23; Omitowoju 2002: 35. A summary of Aeschinus’ legal position and possible punishments can be found in Fantham 1975: 55-56. For general works on rape in antiquity and its social and legal implications for men, see Ogden 1997; Omitowoju 1997; Omitowoju 2002. On the literary representation of rape, see Richlin 1992; Pierce 1997; James 1998.

tell the woman the things which you told me: that this suspicion was really on account of his brother and the music girl. {MI} If you think it is fair or if you think this must be done, let us go. {HE} You are doing a good thing. For you will relieve her spirit there, which is wasting away with grief and misery, and you will be doing your duty. But if you are thinking of doing things otherwise, I myself will tell her what you told me. {MI} No, I’d prefer to go myself. {HE} You are doing a good thing: Everyone for whom matters are less favorable, they are for some reason or another more suspicious: they are more likely to take everything as an insult; because of their powerlessness, they believe that they are always being attacked. So because of this it is more appeasing if you clear things up with her face to face. {MI} You speak right and true. {HE} Then follow me this way, inside. {MI} Most definitely.

Aeschinus has harmed another man’s property, and in doing so he has endangered the social relationship between the men of the two households. Micio and Hegio address this problem first: someone from Micio’s house has committed a wrong against Hegio (593), and now it is Micio’s duty to pay recompense for this transgression in order to restore the relationship between the two men. But this does not settle the matter entirely: it is equally important that Micio set things right with Sostrata and, by extension, her daughter. Hegio asks Micio to deliver the news to Sostrata

“at once” (una, 598), “personally” (tute, 599), and “face to face” (coram, 608). He makes this request because, as he tells Micio, Sostrata has been “wasting away with grief and misery” (602).

Hegio explicitly recognizes the emotional pain caused to the women and believes that Micio and his household have a duty to alleviate their suffering, a duty which is compounded by the fact that Micio is in a position of power over the “powerless” women (inpotentia, 607).

This moral lesson of rescuing the socially-crippled neighbors is driven home in the end of the play when Demea arranges for his free-spirited brother, Micio, to marry Sostrata, the matriarch of the poor, friendless family. Demea is in part motivated by a wish to cause trouble for his brother, with whom he has been at odds for the entire play on account of their different

parenting styles, but the means by which Demea chooses to get back at his brother is revealing.

His primary argument is that they – the men – are responsible for uniting the two households.

Demea tells Aeschinus to tear down the wall separating the two properties:

missa haec face hymenaeum turbas lampadas tibicinas, atque hanc in horto maceriam iube dirui quantum potest: hac transfer, unam fac domum: transduce et matrem et familiam omnem ad nos. (906-10)

Drop all these things, the hymn, the hubbub, the lamps, the flute girls, and order the dividing wall in the garden torn down as much as is possible: bring the girl over, make one house: bring over her mother and her entire household to ours!

The point of this marriage is to unite two households, and in the case of this particular marriage, that involves bringing over the bride, her mother, and her slaves (part of the familia). If Sostrata had her own husband, Demea would not make this suggestion, for Sostrata would remain her husband’s responsibility. When Micio finds out that the entire household will be moving in with him, he brings his objections to Demea, who explains the importance of supporting an isolated household:

{MICIO} iubet frater? ubi is est? tu[n] iubes hoc, Demea? {DEMEA} ego vero iubeo et hac re et aliis omnibus quam maxume unam facere nos hanc familiam, colere adiuvare adiungere. {AESCHINUS} ita quaeso, pater. {MI} haud aliter censeo. {DE} immo hercle ita nobis decet. (924-28)

{MICIO} My brother’s orders? Where is he? Did you order this, Demea? {DEMEA} Yes, I did. I want us, both in this matter and in all others, as best as we are able, to make this into one family, to cultivate our bond, to help them, to join us together. {AESCHINUS} Please, father! {MI} I do not disagree. {DE} Rather, we must, by Hercules!

Demea feels that it is necessary to join the two households, but not just in the usual way that marriage joins two households of comparable standing: he specifically states that they are obliged to help their neighbors (adiuvare, 927). A union of two households might involve mutual

benefit, but Sostrata is not in a position to offer anything. Rather, Demea is willing to offer

Micio’s one-sided assistance to the socially crippled neighbors.

Demea then takes this joining of the two households to the extreme: he suggests not just that Sostrata and her familia move in, but that Micio actually take Sostrata as his wife. In an attempt to convince Micio to accept the marriage, he offers no arguments as to how the union would benefit Micio. Instead, he argues that the marriage will benefit Sostrata, and therefore

Micio is obligated to it:

{DEMEA} natu grandior. {MICIO} scio. {DE} parere iamdiu haec per annos non potest: nec qui eam respiciat quisquam est: solast. {MI} quam hic rem agit? {DE} hanc te aequomst ducere, et te operam ut fiat dare. (930-33)

{DEMEA} She is getting on in years. {MICIO} I know. {DE} She is well passed the age where she could bear children: there is no one to look after her; she is alone. {MI} (aside): So what is he getting at? {DE} It is right that you take her as a wife, that you render her assistance.

Demea focuses on her isolation: there will be no one to take care of her in her old age. She will continue to be alone in the future, as she is alone now (solast). Because of her isolation, in spite of her undesirability, Demea says Micio is morally obligated (aequomst) to help her by marrying her. Micio gains nothing, but Sostrata gains everything. Demea proposes the marriage with the main goal of annoying his brother, not of helping the women; but it is plausible to both Micio and the audience that men should feel an obligation to help women acquire social support. The audience will recognize that Micio has, to a certain extent, been duped: Sostrata has already been invited to accompany her daughter to the new marital house, and there she will be cared for in her old age. If this is the only obligation the men have to Sostrata, Micio does not see that it has already been met. Perhaps Demea feels that her current situation only barely meets her needs for

food and shelter, whereas marriage to Micio would give her not just the opportunity to survive, but to be an integral part of the newly combined household. Whatever his actual beliefs, he is chiefly concerned with making his viewpoint prevail, and he successfully convinces Micio that

Sostrata’s needs will not fully be met unless he marries her. Although they have many motives, it is clear that these characters recognize the importance of creating and maintaining a stable social support group for the women of Pamphila’s household.

D. Conclusion

Although the evidence for women’s interactions is scattered and sometimes limited to a mere line, we are able to create a picture of female social circles in the comic world. Despite genre differences between Aristophanes and the New Comic poets, the portrayal is consistent across all four authors: what women pretend to do in Aristophanes, they actually do in New

Comedy. For example, the women of Ecclesiazusae must tell their husbands that they are going off to socially sanctioned, small scale get-togethers when in fact they are going off for a socially risqué, community-wide meeting of women who intend to overthrow the government. The excuses that they give, such as breakfasting with friends and attending to childbirth, are precisely what we see women doing in together in New Comedy. The combined evidence demonstrates a consistent picture of a women’s subculture and the rules of operation within that culture.

Whether this is due to direct literary influence of Old Comedy on New, or a shared historical culture in which all four authors operate, is beyond the scope of this project, although I suspect that the answer includes a little of both. Finally, many of the plays rely upon that subculture as an important mechanism for advancing the plot. Women’s relationships are, in fact, the material out of which Aristophanes constructs his Lysistrata, Thesmophoriazusae, and Ecclesiazusae, to which we now turn.

Chapter 3. Solidarity by Gender: The Women of Aristophanes

Whereas Chapter 2 illustrated the nature of the women’s network, the remaining chapters examine how women interact with each other within that network. I devote a separate chapter to

Aristophanes because, as the only representative of Old Comedy in my study, his treatment of the social relationships between women is notably different from that of the New Comedy authors. The women of the Lysistrata, Thesmophoriazusae, and Ecclesiazusae act for the good of the gender as a whole, with no particular attention paid to the more intimate relationships between two or three female friends. O’Higgins argues that the presentation of women as a unified body is a function of fifth century Athenian society and is reflected in the wider literary tradition, including other genres and the extant fragments of other Old Comedy authors. Because women were not publically visible, and in private women of various age groups and classes worked together to raise children and run the household, it was easy for men to think of them as collectively.95 Henderson notes an additional purpose in presenting women as a unified body, arguing that Aristophanes used the theme of solidarity among women to urge similar bonds of solidarity among men in Athens and throughout the Greek poleis.96 In this chapter I examine the decisions that Aristophanes’ women make on behalf of the gendered group, what social and physical risks they are willing to take for each other, and how the women of these three plays achieve as a unified body what individual women cannot: a public voice.97

In each play the women have decided that men (or a single man, in the case of the

Thesmophoriazusae) have created a problem affecting all women, and so all women must work together to fix it. The man or men have done something to upset the marital dynamic between

95 O’Higgins 2003: 142. 96 Henderson 1996: 37. 97 For an analysis of the silence of women in fifth century Athenian society and literature, see McClure 1999 and Lardinois and McClure 2001.

husband and wife: Euripides in the Thesmophoriazusae has created plays that give away the secrets of women, so that real life Athenian men no longer trust their wives at home. The men of

Lysistrata have involved Athens and Sparta in an endless war, with the result that the men can no longer fulfill their marital obligations to their spouses.98 The men of the Ecclesiazusae have misgoverned the city so gravely that the women are suffering at home. In each case, the threat posed to women’s daily lives inspires them to combine forces to fix the problem, in spite of a society that traditionally limits the opportunities for them to assemble. By transgressing this social norm, they temporarily risk upsetting their relationships with their husbands, but hope ultimately to improve the quality of life for all women.

Since women are usually fragmented and confined to their individual homes, each plot must address the unlikelihood of the women’s unity. Aristophanes works with existing social institutions to offer his female characters believable ways to gather. The festival of the

Thesmophoria offers the women of that play one of the few acceptable occasions for women to assemble in large numbers in public.99 The women of the Lysistrata and Ecclesiazusae must use various excuses to slip out of their homes. Each exploits a social leniency that allows women to go outdoors for approved private gatherings, when in fact each is planning to join up with a much larger group. In these two plays, an eloquent speaker is required to convince the women to overcome their socially conditioned reluctance to unify. Unaccustomed to such large-scale social interactions, the women use their local networking skills to forge bonds with women from all

98 Shaw 1975: 264-65 shows that the actions of men create problems for women within the oikos, which then necessitates that women step outside of their roles to correct the problems. 99 Burkert 1985: 246 demonstrates that the Greeks “interpreted Demeter thesmophoros as the bringer of order, the order of marriage, civilization, and of life itself.” Therefore this particular festival is an appropriate setting for a play in which the women attempt to restore traditional marital relations.

over the deme in the Thesmophoriazusae and Ecclesiazusae, and even other demes in the

Lysistrata.

Once unified, the women achieve unprecedented power over the public discourse. The assembled women of the Thesmophoriazusae gain complete control over the few, outnumbered men in their midst. When Euripides hears that the women are planning to discuss him at the festival, he is drawn into the women’s gathering on the Pnyx, captured, and forced to succumb to the their demands.100 The men of the Lysistrata suffer a similar fate: the unification of the women allows them not just to control military policy, but even to become physically equal to the men. Men are used to having superior strength, which they use to control women’s voices, but a depletion of their ranks and a subsequent rallying of the women allows women to take usurp this prerogative.101 Finally, the Ecclesiazusae shows a complete reversal of the usual power dynamic between the genders: the unified women use their collective voice to deprive men of a civic voice by taking control of the government out of male hands entirely.

A. Thesmophoriazusae: Women, Men, and the Public Discourse about Gender Roles in the Home

I start with the Thesmophoriazusae because it directly addresses the issue at the heart of all three plays: the struggle between men and women for control over public discourse.102 The dramatic setting of this play is the annual women’s festival of the Thesmophoria, from which men are barred. As demonstrated in Chapter 2, religious festivals were one of few opportunities

100 Although it is the Kinsman who is literally trapped, Euripides allows himself to be equally ensnared because he feels that it is his duty to rescue him. See Zeitlin 1996: 397-99 on Euripides’ gender transformation. 101 Katz 1995: 25 summarizes the fifth century Athenian zeitgeist: “To the man belongs the right of rule, derived from the fact of his physical and intellectual superiority, ….” 102 For general studies on the representation of gender in the Thesmophoriazusae, see Zeitlin 1996, Stehle 2002, and Van Steen 2002 (a reception study).

when it was socially acceptable for women to assemble in large numbers. Since the social worlds of men and women were largely separate – indeed men were excluded entirely from this festival

– Aristophanes is not expected to know what actually occurred at the Thesmophoria, and he is free to fabricate according to his dramatic needs. In a patriarchal society that limited women’s public speech,103 the thought of women’s voices going unchecked at such an event must have caused unease for many Athenian men. Aristophanes explores the worst possible scenario: that the women are using their voices to challenge male authority: the women take control of the public discourse regarding what is and what is not acceptable for women to do at home. They use their combined strength to take that power away from Euripides, who had affected the public discourse through his plays.

At the festival, the chairwoman (Κηρύκαινα) demonstrates that the problem posed by

Euripides is one that affects all women equally: ἀδικεῖν γὰρ δοκεῖ ἡμῖν ἁπάσαις (“For he seems to have wronged all of us,” 378-79).104 The unnamed character Γυνή Α best describes the nature of the problem: Euripides has represented women negatively in his plays (383-87). This is particularly troubling because, as a consequence, there are a number of ways in which husbands no longer trust their wives at home: after viewing Euripides’ plays, men get suspicious of their wives and search the house for adulterers (395-97); childless women can no longer claim abandoned children as their own because their husbands are more vigilant (407-9); old men are no longer willing to take on young wives because of Euripides’ assertion that δέσποινα γὰρ

103 This is illustrated by the funeral oration of Pericles, in which he said that respectable women are seen and not heard (Thucydides 2.45.2). 104 Line numbers and text of Thesmophoriazusae, Lysistrata, and Ecclesiazusae are from Hall and Geldart 1906.

γέροντι νυμφίῳ γυνή (“the wife is boss over her elderly groom,” 413).105 Finally, the kinds of power that women have traditionally enjoyed at home have been threatened:

ἃ δ’ ἦν ἡμῖν πρὸ τοῦ αὐταῖς ταμιεῦσαι καὶ προαιρούσαις λαθεῖν ἄλφιτον ἔλαιον οἶνον, οὐδὲ ταῦτ’ ἔτι 420 ἔξεστιν. oἱ γὰρ ἄνδρες ἤδη κλῄδια αὐτοὶ φοροῦσι κρυπτὰ κακοηθέστατα Λακωνίκ’ ἄττα, τρεῖς ἔχοντα γομφίους. πρὸ τοῦ μὲν οὖν ἦν ἀλλ’ ὑποῖξαι τὴν θύραν ποιησαμέναισι δακτύλιον τριωβόλου, 425 νῦν δ’ οὗτος αὐτοὺς ᾡκότριψ Εὐριπίδης ἐδίδαξε θριπήδεστ’ ἔχειν σφραγίδια ἐξαψαμένους. (418-28)

The opportunities afforded to us before to be stewards by ourselves and to secretly take barley, olive oil, and wine from the stores, these opportunities no longer exist. Now our husbands themselves wear secret keys, some thoroughly nasty Laconian ones, the ones with three teeth. Before, it was no problem to secretly open the door ourselves with a signet ring we had made for three obols, but now this homegrown slave Euripides has taught them to wear thoroughly complicated106 seals attached to their belts.

The αὐταῖς of line 419 emphasizes the autonomy the women used to have in managing the storehouse, and it is contrasted with the αὐτοὶ of line 422, showing that the power over the storehouses has now been transferred to the men.107 Even when women did not have explicit control, they managed to retake control covertly by purchasing counterfeit keys fairly cheaply.

Euripides has taken away both their sanctioned and unsanctioned control over the household economy by teaching men how to make more complicated seals with which to lock the storerooms, seals that could not be replicated on account of the unique way in which they were produced. Euripides has poisoned the dialogue about women’s role in the home, such that the

105 Gardner 1989: 53-58 examines how this passage reflects real anxieties of Athenian men, albeit in exaggerated form. 106 Literally, “worm-eaten.” The pattern in which worms ate away at the wood of the seal was unique and therefore difficult to replicate. 107 In his Oikonomikos 9.15, Xenophon says that ideally the wife is the guardian of the things in the oikos: νομίσαι οὖν ἐκέλευον, ἔφη, τὴν γυναῖκα καὶ αὐτὴν νομοφύλακα τῶν ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ εἶναι.

men of Athens, encouraged by his plays, now control household gender roles in a way that is unfavorable to women.

Listening to these complaints is Euripides’ Kinsman, whom Euripides has plucked, singed, dressed as a woman, and sent to the festival as his spy. When then the Kinsman speaks up in defense of Euripides (466-519), the other women immediately suspect something (520-30).

Taaffe offers a technical explanation of the Kinsman’s failure to pose as a woman: when the

Kinsman speaks, he consistently uses feminine endings, but “the unsubtle and unironic content of his speech does not conform to the feminine ways of Women A and B. The message of the speech is rather markedly male.”108 McClure suggests an additional linguistic explanation, that his use of obscenities betrays his masculinity.109 While the Kinsman may not convincingly adopt the speech of women, the chorus women do not acknowledge any suspicion. In fact, in their response they still call the Kinsman “one of us” (ἐν ἡμῖν, 526). They do, however, express anger at the content of “her” speech because “she” dared to speak “shameful things openly” (κατὰ τὸ

φανερὸν ὧδ᾽ ἀναιδῶς, 525).

In response to the Kinsman’s speech, Woman A changes the dialogue so that the women no longer consider the problem individually, but from a unified perspective. She explains that

Euripides has committed an affront to the entire gender. First, she rebukes her companions for allowing Euripides to slander all women (περιυβρίζειν ἡμᾶς ἁπάσας, 535-36), using the term

ἡμᾶς ἁπάσας to emphasize the shared nature of their problem. She then concludes that the women will have to work together to stick up for themselves:

εἰ μὲν οὖν τις ἔστιν· εἰ δὲ μή, ἡμεῖς αὐταί τε καὶ τὰ δουλάρια τέφραν ποθὲν λαβοῦσαι ταύτης ἀποψιλώσομεν τὸν χοῖρον, ἵνα διδαχθῇ

108 Taaffe 1993: 90. 109 McClure 1999: 231-33.

γυνὴ γυναῖκας οὖσα μὴ κακῶς λέγειν τὸ λοιπόν. (536- 39)

If there is anyone…. Well, if there is not, then we ourselves and our slave girls will get some hot ashes from somewhere and singe the hair off her pussy. That will teach her to talk trash about other women ever again!

This passage is a turning point: Woman A has decided that all women must work together not just to discuss a problem – which was the main order of business as explicitly stated by the chairwoman (377-78) – but to bring about the solution. Woman A expresses the need for all women (ἡμεῖς αὐταί, 536-37) to collaborate towards a common goal: by punishing this woman

(the Kinsman in disguise), they will make great strides towards eliminating negative speech about their gender. This social pressure is directed against any woman who does not act or speak in a way that is beneficial to the group as a whole. The pressure to homogenize the group behavior is further shown by the subsequent exchange, when the Kinsman states that the rules of free speech (παρρησία, 541) allow “her” to speak in defense of Euripides (542) and Woman A corrects her:

οὐ γάρ σε δεῖ δοῦναι δίκην; ἥτις μόνη τέτληκας ὑπὲρ ἀνδρὸς ἀντειπεῖν, ὃς ἡμᾶς πολλὰ κακὰ δέδρακεν ἐπίτηδες εὑρίσκων λόγους, ὅπου γυνὴ πονηρὰ ἐγένετο, Μελανίππας ποιῶν Φαίδρας τε· Πηνελόπην δὲ οὐπώποτ’ ἐπόιησ’, ὅτι γυνὴ σώφρων ἔδοξεν εἶναι. (544-48)

Is it not necessary for you to pay the penalty? You, the only one who dared to contradict us in defense of a man who has done us many evils by purposefully finding stories where a woman is wicked, by representing Melanippes and Phaedras; never once did he create a Penelope, because she has proved to be a sensible woman.

She emphasizes that the Kinsman is the only one to go against the group opinion. Furthermore,

McClure points out that the concept of παρρησία did not apply to women, only to men.110 Thus the Kinsman as a woman did not have any such license, and in fact her claim to such a right further marks her as an outsider to the women’s group and a person who promotes male values

110 McClure 1999: 19, 234.

instead of female. Because she went against the group opinion, the rest of the women are now justified in rebuking her in an attempt to reform her behavior. Woman A, like a good demagogue, has effectively turned anger into action.

Membership in the group is an important part of identity for the women of this play, as is shown by the test that they use to ferret out the imposter. After Kleisthenes announces that there is a man in their midst pretending to be a woman (584-91), the women seek out the intruder by asking who in the group recognizes each woman. The first woman questioned, Woman A, states that she is the wife of Kleonymus (605), but her identity is only accepted when the rest of the women confirm that they recognize her (607). Once verified, she is treated as a trustworthy member of the group and loyal to the women’s cause, such that her word is now good enough to vouch for the second woman questioned, who turns out to be the wet nurse of Woman A (609).

Finally the Kinsman is questioned, because, as the chorus tells Kleisthenes, μόνην γὰρ αὐτήν,

ὦνερ οὐ γιγνώσκομεν (“For she is the only one, sir, whom we do not recognize,” 614). The

Kinsman is unable to successfully set up a connection between “herself” and anyone else in the community, either male or female. “She” is first asked to state her husband’s name, which she cannot do (619-20); she is then asked to state her roommate at the Thesmophoria, which she cannot do (625), nor can she properly recall the events of the previous year’s Thesmophoria

(633-34). As soon as he betrays that he is in fact not a part of the group, not privy to the same information as the other women, then his identity is exposed (634-35). Although the women wish to physically verify their suspicions by stripping the Kinsman, one woman says clearly ὅδ’ ἐστὶν

ἁνὴρ ὃν λέγεις (“This is the man whom you speak of,” 635), indicating that she is already quite certain they have found the spy. The Kinsman is shown to be not a woman because he does not

have the expected social connections to other women in the group; his genital status is only examined as an afterthought and for comic affect.

After the women expose the Kinsman, his struggle for freedom becomes intertwined with the women’s struggle with Euripides. Euripides tries to evade the charge of speaking negatively about women by staging several rescue attempts based on deception and brute force, but his efforts repeatedly fail.111 It is only after Euripides addresses the women’s complaints directly that they agree not to interfere with his rescue operation:

{ΕΥΡΙΠΙΔΕΣ} γυναῖκες εἰ βούλεσθε τὸν λοιπὸν χρόνον 1160 σπονδὰς ποιήσασθαι πρὸς ἐμέ, νυνὶ πάρα, ἐφ’ ᾧτ’ ἀκοῦσαι μηδὲν ὑπ’ ἐμοῦ μηδαμὰ κακὸν τὸ λοιπόν. ταῦτ’ ἐπικηρυκεύομαι. {ΧΟΡΟΣ} χρείᾳ δὲ ποίᾳ τόνδ’ ἐπεσφέρεις λόγον; {ΕΥ} ὅδ’ ἐστὶν οὑν τῇ σανίδι κηδεστὴς ἐμός. 1165 ἢν οὖν κομίσωμαι τοῦτον, οὐδὲν μή ποτε κακῶς ἀκούσητ’· ἢν δὲ μὴ πίθησθέ μοι, ἃ νῦν ὑποικουρεῖτε τοῖσιν ἀνδράσιν ἀπὸ τῆς στρατιᾶς παροῦσιν ὑμῶν διαβαλῶ. {ΧΟ} τὰ μὲν παρ’ ἡμῖν ἴσθι σοι πεπεισμένα· 1170

{EURIPIDES} Women, if you ever wish to make a truce with me, now is the time. That in the future you will never hear another bad word from me, this is my promise. {CHORUS} Why do you offer this proposal? {EU} This man on the plank is my kinsman. If I can take him home with me, then you will never again here me speak a bad word. But if you refuse, whatever you are secretly doing at home behind your husbands’ backs while they are out in the trenches, I will denounce it to them. {CHO} You can be sure that you’ve convinced us.

His original infraction was one of speech, and the women will accept no solution that does not directly address Euripides’ speech. Although the parodies allowed him to play with the way in

111 The scholarly interpretation of the rescue attempts is diverse. Zeitlin 1996: 390-99 argues that Euripides fails as long as his parodies represents women negatively, and he succeeds only when, having undergone the female experience himself, he adopts parodies that represent women in a more favorably. Tzanetou 2002: 351-53 argues that each parody moves closer to the Demeter and Persephone myth, and the final parody is successful because it most closely approximates the myth and so conveys the play’s message: that Euripides’ reconciliation with the women ensures dramatic fertility, a theme continually alluded to with the Demeter references.

which he represents women, no parody amounts to a promise to change how he writes women in future tragedies. The Kinsman cannot be rescued, and the play cannot end, until the women’s demands are met. With Euripides’ promise, the women have secured control over what he says in public.

All of the men in this play, save the barbarian who appears in the last scene, are mocked by Aristophanes for varying levels of effeminacy. Agathon voluntarily takes up markers of femininity in order to better write women, earning him a great deal of ridicule from the Kinsman

(130-52); the Kinsman has been plucked, singed, and made to conceal the things that define him as a male; and Kleisthenes introduces himself as a kindred spirit to women (ξυγγενεῖς, 574),112 as is evidenced by his clean-shaven face; and Euripides has been forced to undergo the female experience in order to rescue his relative. In sum: Agathon dresses as a woman, the Kinsman impersonates a woman, Kleisthenes wants to be a woman, and Euripides is forced to become a woman. The unified body of women admits no “real” men into their company, only men who are stripped of their masculine markers and, with it, their power over women. In the settlement that they reach with Euripides, the women gain the right to control how he presents women in his plays, and in this way they change the dialogue that takes place in individual homes. The speech of Woman A (383-432) showed us that Euripides’ plays teach men how to interpret women’s behavior and determine what conduct is acceptable for them, so it follows that by controlling

Euripides, the women now control public and private discourse about women.

112 This is a pathic joke: Aristophanes is implying that Kleisthenes is womanly because he enjoys being the passive partner of a homosexual encounter (or perhaps the implication is the other way around: that Kleisthenes must be a pathic because he is womanly).

B. Lysistrata: Women, Men, and the Public Discourse about Military Policy

Whereas I used the Thesmophoriazusae to demonstrate that the women of Aristophanes exhibit a collective identity, I use the Lysistrata to show how women make decisions based on loyalty to that group. The problem, as in the previous play, is that the men have upset matters on the home front, in this case by misgoverning the polis, and the women are feeling the repercussions at home. Lysistrata’s goal is for the women to change military policy by ending the war, a topic that traditionally falls in the realm of public and male discourse. She hopes that the common threat to women’s daily lives will create a common sense of duty. She tells the women,

ὅλης τῆς Ἑλλάδος ἐν τᾶις γυναιξίν ἐστιν ἡ σωτηρία (“The salvation of all of Greece is in the women’s hands,” 29-30).113 She appeals to the principle of strength in numbers: with greater numbers comes greater power to affect change. Although collectivism should provide security, the women struggle with the desire to protect their individual interests first. They take a number of personal risks when joining the cause, and Lysistrata must convince them that it is beneficial to give priority to the group’s goals.

The opening conversation between Lysistrata and Kalonike calls attention to this basic conflict between self-interest and cooperation. Lysistrata first argues that they must save Greece, or else the Peloponnesians and Boeotians will die out (29-35). Kalonike does not care. Why should she? The problem she faces is the devastation of war, and she views the destruction of the enemies and allies as a destruction of the materiel of war, thus solving her problem. But when

Lysistrata adds that the war threatens the Athenians, too (37-38), Kalonike shows the first inklings of cooperation. She changes her tone from refusal to defeatist, suggesting that she would

113 Konstan 1993: 439 suggests that the women are presented as a unified body in part to call attention to the fragmented nature of the warring men: “By representing them as engaging in a political action against the war, Aristophanes conjures up the image of women as a counter- society, a kind of mirror world of the masculine civic space.”

help if she thought it would make a difference. She tries to offer evidence for women’s ineffectiveness, but Lysistrata turns women’s perceived weaknesses into their strength, explaining that they will use their sexuality as a weapon (46-48).114 Once Kalonike is shown a means by which the women could possibly affect change, she is more willing, even eager, to participate in the conversation (51).

Kalonike is just one woman, and her conversation with Lysistrata takes place before the other women arrive. To convince the wider audience, Lysistrata emphasizes that all women are suffering, making the problem both personal and collective. She says:

τοὺς πατέρας οὐ ποθεῖτε τοὺς τῶν παιδίων ἐπὶ στρατιᾶς ἀπόντας; εὖ γὰρ οἶδ’ ὅτι πάσαισιν ὑμῖν ἐστιν ἀποδημῶν ἀνήρ. (99-101)

Don’t you long for the fathers of your children when they are away at war? I know well that every one of you has a husband that is away from home.

Three women then chime in with their own personal story of loss and longing (102-7). By emphasizing their personal suffering, Lysistrata has made them more amenable to joining her cause. Women start volunteering things that they are willing to sacrifice in order to make this work: Myrrhine is willing to sell her dress (112-14), Kalonike jokes about cutting herself in two like a fish and donating half to the cause (115-16), and Lampito is willing to climb Taygetus

(117-18). In short, the women offer their money, their time, and their physical endurance. When

Lysistrata informs them that their contribution will involve giving something up personally

(ἀφεκτέ’, 122), Kalonike interjects that she is willing to give up even her life (ποιήσομεν, κἂν

ἀποθανεῖν ἡμᾶς δέῃ “We will do it, even if we must die in the process!” 123). But when

Lysistrata finally reveals what they must give up (sex), she immediately loses support: women start turning away, walking away, shaking their heads, even crying (124-28).

114 Foley 1982: 5 argues that the women’s scheme is a success precisely because women remain women and do not intrude on the masculine domain.

Although Lysistrata successfully convinces the women that they are all suffering and that they need to work together to address the problem, she loses support because the sacrifice is perceived to be too great. The women are in a stalemate, but Lysistrata recognizes that the support of just one influential woman can help turn the tide. She appeals to Lampito, whose eventual capitulation is a function of her asceticism, a stereotypical trait of Spartans. Here a quality that is conventionally mocked by Athenians becomes an important mechanism in advancing the plot of the play, since it is precisely what Lysistrata’s plan needs. With an austere tone, Lampito says:

χαλεπὰ μὲν ναὶ τὼ σιὼ γυναῖκας ἐσθ’ ὑπνῶν ἄνευ ψωλᾶς μόνας. ὄμως γα μάν· δεῖ τᾶς γὰρ εἰράνας μάλ’ αὖ. (142-44)

By the two gods, it is difficult for women to sleep alone without the prick. By golly, I’ll do it anyway. We need peace again.

This attitude is what Lysistrata asks of all the women: the willingness to make a personal sacrifice on behalf of the greater good. She praises Lampito as the ideal to which all woman should aspire: ὦ φιλτάτη σὺ καὶ μόνη τούτων γυνή (“Dearest woman, you are the only real woman here!” 145). Lampito, next to Lysistrata, has taken the biggest risk: she is willing to make the sacrifice, and she risks the animosity of her peers, but has no promise of reward since the collaborators do not yet have sufficient numbers to pull off the plan. But Lampito’s pledge puts the movement one person closer to that critical mass needed for the plan to be effective. The revolution now has two key women on its side: Lysistrata, on the Athenian side, and Lampito, on the Spartan side. This is enough to get others thinking about cooperating.

The next person to waver is Kalonike, Lysistrata’s friend and neighbor, who suggests that she would be more willing if she had greater assurance of success. She asks:

εἰ δ’ ὡς μάλιστ’ ἀπεχοίμεθ’ οὗ σὺ δὴ λέγεις, ὃ μὴ γένοιτο, μᾶλλον ἂν διὰ τουτογὶ

γένοιτ’ ἂν εἰρήνη; (146-48)

Even if we could hold back as much as possible from that thing you are talking about, heaven forbid, would peace be any more likely because of it?

Lysistrata’s final effort to convince the women to make the sacrifice hinges on her ability to convince them that the plan will succeed. Lysistrata responds to a series of “what if” questions from her peers, successfully arguing that they have the power to deny men sex (157-66).115

Lampito offers a practical concern of military funding, but Lysistrata has already seen to it that the older women will blockade the treasury (175-79). Lampito is finally convinced, and she consents to swear an oath immediately (181-83). In fact, she speaks for everyone when she says,

πάρφαινε μὰν τὸν ὅρκον, ὡς ὀμιόμεθα (“Bring out the oath, so that we may all swear it,”

183). Her use of the first person plural shows that she has become the de facto spokesperson for everyone who is not Lysistrata, especially the women of Sparta and their allies. It was she who posed the final problem, and once it was answered, she is able to accept the proposal on behalf of the group. Now they have reached that critical mass whereby they have enough people to make the plan effective. The rest of the women can now join the cause relatively risk-free, since they are reasonably certain that their sacrifice will pay off. Their unity is formalized when they all enthusiastically swear Lysistrata’s oath (209-37).

The solidarity among the women gives them the strength that they need to carry out their individual sacrifice, a sacrifice that they are making for the benefit of each other. The dialogue of the play highlights how difficult it is for the women to give up sex, but it also shows that they

115 Konstan 1993: 435 draws attention to a logical flaw with the sex-strike. Lysistrata states that all the men are away on the front, which means that both husbands and wives are already being deprived of sex. The women decide to act because they are suffering from the lack of sex, but the men clearly are not suffering from the disruption to marital life. Therefore, the sex strike is designed to arouse and then frustrate the men so that they do care.

give each other the strength to keep their promise. Even while taking the oath the women indicate how much they are suffering: when Kalonike swears that she will let no man approach her in an aroused state (215), she adds, παπαῖ ὑπολύεταί μου τὰ γόνατ’, ὦ Λυσιστράτη (“Oh gods, my knees are buckling, Lysistrata!” 215-16). Her resolve is wavering. When she manages to complete the oath, Lysistrata starts to take the first drink of consecration. Kalonike says to her,

τὸ μέρος γ’ ὦ φίλη, | ὅπως ἂν ὦμεν εὐθὺς ἀλλήλων φίλαι (“Only your share, comrade, so that we all start out on friendly terms with one another,” 238-39). This gentle warning is

Kalonike’s way of saying that everyone must cooperate as a community of equals in order to maintain their willingness to help each other. Even though Lysistrata has taken an organizational role, she is not allowed to take the role of leader or accept privileges that come with a hierarchical social system. For this community of women to work, it must be arranged as a community of social equals; Kalonike therefore pressures Lysistrata not to overstep her role.

There are other, less subtle, ways to maintain cooperation within this community: Lysistrata sends Lampito home to carry out the sex strike in Sparta, but keeps a number of Spartans in

Athens as hostages (244).

Lysistrata gives us a detailed description of how the sex sacrifice takes a toll on the women, and again she demonstrates that unity and friendship are the most effective tools to get the women through it. A large part of the play is devoted to the humor inherent in watching the characters try to abstain from sex. Lysistrata tells us how the women have been sneaking off of the acropolis to try to have sex, each in an increasingly more risky and ludicrous manner: the first woman sneaked off to Pan’s Grotto (721), the second tried to escape the summit using a rope and pulley (722-23), and the third mounted a sparrow trying to fly off the acropolis (723-

27).116 Next, several women approach Lysistrata with various excuses as to why they should be allowed to go home (728-61). The urgency in their excuses, and the sexual imagery involved, highlights just how much these women are suffering for the cause. The scene is a bit chaotic, with four women urgently requesting leave from the acropolis for reasons that they portray as dire. Losing control over the women, Lysistrata finds herself making a motivational speech in an attempt to restore order. She reminds the women that if they are suffering, their husbands are also suffering, which means that their plan is working (763-65). Most importantly, she issues a renewed call for unity by claiming that an oracle predicts victory for them only if they stick together: ὡς χρησμὸς ἡμῖν ἐστιν ἐπικρατεῖν, ἐὰν | μὴ στασιάσωμεν (“There is an oracle predicting victory for us, but only if we do not dissolve into factions,” 767-68). She uses the oracle, no doubt fabricated, to convince the women that the success of their plan depends on their solidarity. The text of the oracle is as follows:

{ΛΥΣΙΣΤΡΑΤΗ} ἀλλ’ ὁπόταν πτήξωσι χελιδόνες εἰς ἕνα χῶρον, τοὺς ἔποπας φεύγουσαι, ἀπόσχωνταί τε φαλήτων, παῦλα κακῶν ἔσται, τὰ δ’ ὑπέρτερα νέρτερα θήσει Ζεὺς ὑψιβρεμέτης— {ΓΥΝΗ Α} ἐπάνω κατακεισόμεθ’ ἡμεῖς; {ΛΥ} ἢν δὲ διαστῶσιν καὶ ἀνάπτωνται πτερύγεσσιν ἐξ ἱεροῦ ναοῖο χελιδόνες, οὐκέτι δόξει ὄρνεον οὐδ’ ὁτιοῦν καταπυγωνέστερον εἶναι. {ΓΥΝΗ Α} σαφής γ’ ὁ χρησμὸς νὴ Δί’. ὢ πάντες θεοί. (770-77)

{LYSISTRATA} Yea, when the swallows hole up in a single home, fleeing the hoopoes and leaving the phallus alone, then are their problems solved, and high-thundering Zeus shall reverse what’s up and what’s down – {WOMAN Α} You mean we’ll be lying on top? {LY} But: If the swallows begin to argue and fly away down from the citadel holy, all will say, no bird more disgustingly horny lives today! {W. Α} A pretty explicit oracle. Ye gods! 117

116 Each example is a sexual pun in the Greek. See Henderson 1991 for a discussion of obscene language in Attic comedy and a glossary of Aristophanic words with double meanings. 117 Text and translation from Henderson 2000: 373.

As Woman A points out, the meaning of the oracle is clear (σαφής, 777): Their plan will only succeed if they remain united. The “horniness” (καταπυγωνέστερον)118 that threatens their unity is the subject of Lysistrata’s scorn, and she assures the women that such horniness, if it disrupts their plans, will also be the subject of gossip. Gossip, a form of censure by the community, is one of the most powerful ways to keep the behavior of independently minded people in line. By failing to cooperate, a woman not only jeopardizes the plan, but also harms her personal reputation. After reading the oracle, Lysistrata gives a final call to arms:

μή νυν ἀπείπωμεν ταλαιπωρούμεναι, ἀλλ’ εἰσίωμεν. καὶ γὰρ αἰσχρὸν τουτογί, ὦ φίλταται, τὸν χρησμὸν εἰ προδώσομεν. (778-80)

Let us not give up when the going is tough, but let us go inside. It would be shameful, comrades, if we betray the oracle.

She recognizes that things are tough, but suggests that this should be a cause for sticking together, not separating. Again she uses shame to motivate her peers, and again she uses the φίλ- root to emphasize camaraderie.

In addition to the social pressure which women face from each other, they are subject to equally strong pressure from their husbands. While the women exhort each other to stick to the plan, the men pressure them to abandon it. Wives must juggle loyalty to their husbands with loyalty to the women’s group, and no matter which side they choose, they risk harming their relationship with the other. The conflicting loyalties experienced by each woman are showcased when Myrrhine is sent to antagonize her husband Kinesias. Myrrhine begins this encounter on the acropolis, whence Lysistrata sends her with the following instructions:

118 καταπυγωνέστερον is literally “one who is overly fond of being buggered” and is used as an insult, usually against men, to imply that they enjoy being the passive partners in sex and are slaves to a deviant and excessive sexual desire. The term can also be applied to women because they are viewed as naturally passive in a sexual encounter. On sex, power, and penetration, see Foucault 1988, Dover 1989, Halperin et al 1990, Halperin 1990a, Winkler 1990, Cohen 1991.

σὸν ἔργον ἤδη τοῦτον ὀπτᾶν καὶ στρέφειν κἀξηπεροπεύειν καὶ φιλεῖν καὶ μὴ φιλεῖν, καὶ πάνθ’ ὑπέχειν πλὴν ὧν σύνοιδεν ἡ κύλιξ. (839-41)

Then your task is to roast him and torture him and beguile him and love him and not love him and to offer him everything except that which only the cup knows about.

Myrrhine responds with an enthusiastic yes: ἀμέλει ποιήσω ταῦτ’ ἐγώ (“Don’t worry, I’ll do it!” 842).119 Her resolve is solid; she has spent days in isolation with the other women on the acropolis and is feeling no conflicting loyalties. The introduction of her husband to the scene causes her to waver. When he comes to fetch her, Myrrhine tries to back out of the plan to torment him, saying to Lysistrata:

φιλῶ φιλῶ ‘γὼ τοῦτον· ἀλλ’ οὐ βούλεται ὑπ’ ἐμοῦ φιλεῖσθαι. σὺ δ’ ἐμὲ τούτῳ μὴ κάλει. (870-71)

I love, love this man! But he doesn’t want to be loved by me. Don’t make me go to him!

The emphatic use of the σὺ shows that she is upset with Lysistrata personally for putting her into this conflict. Kinesias then capitalizes on her weakness: in his attempts to sway her, he appeals to her traditional role as wife and mother. First, he indicates that she is supposed to obey her husband, saying, ἐμοῦ καλοῦντος οὐ καταβήσει Μυρρίνη; (“Will you not come down when I call you, Myrrhine?” 874). When she is not persuaded, he shamelessly uses the baby as bait:

{ΚΙΝΗΣΙΑΣ} μὴ δῆτ’, ἀλλὰ τῷ γοῦν παιδίῳ ὑπάκουσον· οὗτος οὐ καλεῖς τὴν μαμμίαν; {ΠΑΙΣ} μαμμία, μαμμία, μαμμία. {ΚΙ} αὕτη τί πάσχεις; οὐδ’ ἐλεεῖς τὸ παιδίον ἄλουτον ὂν κἄθηλον ἕκτην ἡμέραν; (877-81)

{KINESIAS} No, don’t go! But at least listen to the baby. You, call out to your mommy! {BABY} Mama, mama, mama! {KI.} Woman, what’s wrong with you? Don’t you pity your child, your child who is unwashed and unsuckled for six days now?

119 Faraone 2006: 210 and Henderson 1987a: ad 845-63 argue that the characterizations of Lysistrata and Kalonike in this scene have many parallels to the literary characterizations of procuress and courtesan, respectively.

The appeal to her role as a mother is enough to break her will, as she herself acknowledges: οἷον

τὸ τεκεῖν· καταβατέον, (“How great it is to bring children into the world. I must go down there!” 884). When they meet face to face, he tries to make her feel guilty for neglecting her role as keeper of the house: τὰ δ’ ἔνδον ὄντα τἀμὰ καὶ σὰ χρήματα χεῖρον διατίθης,

(“The things at home, both my stuff and yours, you are managing them rather badly,” 894-95); and for neglecting his spousal privileges: τὰ <δὲ> τῆς Ἀφροδίτης ἱέρ’ ἀνοργίαστά σοι |

χρόνον τοσοῦτόν ἐστιν. οὐ βαδιεῖ πάλιν; (“And the holy rites of Aphrodite, you have neglected them for a long time. Won’t you come home again?” 898-99). Kinesias understands that Myrrhine is engaged in an inner struggle between her loyalty to the women and her loyalty him when he directly addresses and chides his competition:

τί ὦ πονήρα ταῦτα ποιεῖς χἀτέραις πείθει γυναιξί, κἀμέ τ’ ἄχθεσθαι ποεῖς αὐτή τε λυπεῖ; (891-93)

Why, you wicked woman, do you do these things and obey the other women, and cause me grief, and you yourself suffer?

He berates Myrrhine for cooperating with the other women, and he attempts to drive a wedge between her and the group by pointing out that their plan is making her suffer. He understands that he can only succeed if he makes her forget the strong feelings of loyalty that she feels towards the other women. Although her resolve was strong when she was on the acropolis and surrounded by her companions, Kinesias is almost able to bully her into abandoning her principles once he has her separated from the group.

The scene between Kinesias and Myrrhine demonstrates the social risk that women are willing to take for this plan by temporarily upsetting their home life and marital relationships.

The women also take great physical risks in standing up to their husbands, who are used to controlling the situation through violence or threats. The dialogue of the play repeatedly comes

back to the power differential between men and women, highlighting the physical injury that women risk when dealing with their husbands individually, and the threat of violence that still lingers even after the women have banded together. Lysistrata explains that the women refrained from getting involved in the war until the last possible minute because they were afraid of their husbands. She says that when she first tried to speak up about the way that the men were handling the war, he husband told her to shut up:

{ΛΥΣΙΣΤΡΑΤΗ} εἶτ’ ἀλγοῦσαι τἄνδοθεν ὑμᾶς ἐπανηρόμεθ’ ἂν γελάσασαι, “τί βεβούλευται περὶ τῶν σπονδῶν ἐν τῇ στήλῃ παραγράψαι ἐν τῷ δήμῳ τήμερον ὑμῖν;” “τί δὲ σοὶ ταῦτ’;” ἦ δ’ ὃς ἂν ἁνήρ. “οὐ σιγήσει;” κἀγὼ ‘σίγων. {ΓΥNH Α} ἀλλ’ οὐκ ἂν ἐγώ ποτ’ ἐσίγων. {ΠΡΟΒΟΥΛΟΣ} κἂν ᾤμωζές γ’, εἰ μὴ ‘σίγας. {ΛΥ} τοιγὰρ ἔγωγ’ ἔνδον ἐσίγων. (512- 16)

{LYSISTRATA} Then, feeling the anguish inside, we would ask with smiles on our faces, “What did you decide in the assembly today about the addendum to the peace treaty?” “What’s it to you?” my husband would say, “Won’t you shut up?” And I shut up. {WOMAN A} I would not have shut up! {MAGISTRATE} You would have been wailing, if you hadn’t shut up. {LY} Which is exactly why I did shut up at home.120

Lysistrata and the magistrate agree that if she had not obeyed her husband, she would have suffered a beating. This threat was enough for Lysistrata, and we can infer for other women, to keep her objections to herself at first. When things continued to go poorly, however, and the men continued to not fix them, Lysistrata spoke up again and faced another threat:

{ΛΥΣΙΣΤΡΑΤΗ} ὁ δέ μ’ εὐθὺς ὑποβλέψας <ἂν> ἔφασκ’, εἰ μὴ τὸν στήμονα νήσω, ὀτοτύξεσθαι μακρὰ τὴν κεφαλήν· “πόλεμος δ’ ἄνδρεσσι μελήσει.” {ΠΡΟΒΟΥΛΟΣ} ὀρθῶς γε λέγων νὴ Δί’ ἐκεῖνος. (519- 21)

120 This exchange is modeled on the exchange between Hector and Andromache in book 6 of the Iliad. According to Henderson 1996: 214 n. 111, the allusion “not only evokes the ideal (heroic) models of husband and wife, but also singles out the one episode in the heroic tradition when a leader would have done well to heed a woman’s advice.”

{LYSISTRATA} And he straightaway glared at me and said, if I didn’t spin my wool, he would make me wail long and loud over my walloped head. “War is the business of menfolk,” he said. {MAGISTRATE} He spoke correctly, by Zeus!

The magistrate confirms that this is an acceptable and even expected exchange between husband and wife, and that physical threats are a normal part of their interaction.121 Because of the resistance Lysistrata and the other women encountered when the problem was still small and fixable, they were unable to act before the situation became dire. In the continuation of her story,

Lysistrata says that they only acted when the population of men had been depleted:

ὄτε δὴ δ’ ὑμῶν ἐν ταῖσιν ὁδοῖς φανερῶς ἠκούομεν ἤδη, “οὐκ ἔστιν ἀνὴρ ἐν τῇ χώρᾳ;” “μὰ Δί’ οὐ δῆτ’,” <εἶφ’> ἕτερός τις· μετὰ ταῦθ’ ἡμῖν εὐθὺς ἔδοξεν σῶσαι τὴν Ἑλλάδα κοινῇ ταῖσι γυναιξὶν συλλεχθείσαις. ποῖ γὰρ καὶ χρῆν ἀναμεῖναι; (523-26)

But then by this time we could hear you openly into the streets saying, “Isn’t there a man left in the land?” “By Zeus, there is not!” another would say; after that we immediately realized that it was up to us to save Greece, all of the women working together in common. What was the point of waiting any longer?

Her statement suggests that women overcame their fear of abuse only out of necessity, because they could no longer tolerate the high number of war casualties. But note also that it is only after the ranks of men have dwindled that the women are able to stand up to them. They literally wait until massive casualties have weakened the opposition before they enact their plan.

With this background to the conflict between the sexes, we can appreciate the full-scale war on the acropolis, in which we see the same violent tendencies on a larger scale, perpetrated by all of the men against all of the women. The men’s chorus launches an assault against the women’s barricade.122 Their spokesman, the koryphaios, demonstrates that they are angry at the

121 See McClure 1999: 19-24 on how brazen it was for a woman to say such things in public. There is a strong fifth-century literary tradition portraying respectable Athenian women as silent in public. 122 The women enact two plans in this play: the sex-strike, and the seizing of the acropolis. For an explanation of how the two are related through the theme of domesticity, see Vaio 1973.

women’s display of power, and he believes that the appropriate response to this anger is to kill them:

ἀλλ’ ὡς τάχιστα πρὸς πόλιν σπεύσωμεν ὦ Φιλοῦργε, ὅπως ἂν, αὐταῖς ἐν κύκλῳ θέντες τὰ πρέμνα ταυτί, ὅσαι τὸ πρᾶγμα τοῦτ’ ἐνεστήσαντο καὶ μετῆλθον, μίαν πυρὰν νήσαντες ἐμπρήσωμεν αὐτόχειρες πάσας, ἀπὸ ψήφου μιᾶς, πρώτην δὲ τὴν Λύκωνος. (266-70)

But let us go to the city as quickly as possible, Philourgos, so that, once we have laid these logs in a circle around all those women who have fomented and pursued this plan, we can pile up one big pyre and burn them all with our hands, by a single ballot, starting with the wife of Lykon!123

The men’s chorus follows, meticulously laying logs and setting a fire around the acropolis (286-

305). In talking about the plan to burn the women, they switch from language of a private anger, seen above, to language of warfare: public and impersonal. The koryphaios talks of “storming the gates like a ram” (ἐς τὴν θύραν κριηδὸν ἐμπέσοιμεν, 309), “Mistress Victory” (δέσπινα

Νίκη, 317), and a “trophy” (τροπαῖον, 318). Again they threaten the women:

κἂν μὴ καλούντων τοὺς μοχλοὺς χαλῶσιν αἱ γυναῖκες, ἐμπιμπράναι χρὴ τὰς θύρας καὶ τῷ καπνῷ πιέζειν. (310-11)

And if the women don’t unbar the gates when we ask, we will have to set fire to the doors and smoke them out!

In the reported conversation between Lysistrata and her husband, the magistrate felt violence was justified because that was the acceptable form of a husband and wife relationship. In this scene, the koryphaios justifies his threats of violence by phrasing the conflict in terms of warfare: to kill a fellow Athenian might be a crime, but to kill a military enemy is morally and socially sanctioned. Whether at home or in this war of the sexes, the women live with the expectation of physical harm if they fail to abide by the men’s wishes.

123 Henderson 1996: 212 n. 73 says that the men assume that the leader of the rebellion must be Lykon’s wife because she had a reputation for being socially disruptive.

In this play, however, the constant threat of harm causes the women to pledge their support for each other all the more zealously. When first describing the plan, Lysistrata fields a concern from Kalonike, who worries that the men will retaliate. Lysistrata replies:

ὀλίγον αὐτῶν μοι μέλει. οὐ γὰρ τοσαύτας οὔτ’ ἀπειλὰς οὔτε πῦρ ἥξουσ’ ἔχοντες ὥστ’ ἀνοῖξαι τὰς πύλας ταύτας, ἐὰν μὴ ‘φ’ οἷσιν ἡμεῖς εἴπομεν. (248-51)

They do not concern me one bit. They can’t come at us with enough threats or fire to get these doors open unless it happens on our terms.

Kalonike replies, suddenly emboldened, μὰ τὴν Ἀφροδίτην οὐδέποτέ γ’ (“By Aphrodite, they cannot!” 252). When the women realize that the men are trying to burn their fortifications, the koryphaia rallies them with, σπευστέον ἐστὶ θᾶττον (“We must hurry, faster!” 320), and the female chorus responds with promises to help their friends:

ἀλλὰ φοβοῦμαι τόδε, μῶν ὑστερόπους βοηθῶ. 326 … …ταῖσιν ἐμαῖς 332 δημότισιν καομέναις 333 φέρουσ’ ὕδωρ βοηθῶ. 334

But I’m sick with dread at this, surely I’m not to late to help (326). … carrying water, I’m here to help my roasting demeswomen! (332-34)

The chorus acknowledges that its involvement is specifically in response to the men’s threat: when they hear the men say, ὡς πυρὶ χρὴ τὰς μυσαρὰς γυναῖκας ἀνθρακεύειν (“We must burn these foul women to charcoal!” 340), they respond that they must rescue (ῤυσαμένας, 342)

Greece and its citizens, and they invite Athena to be their ally (ξύμμαχον, 346).124 Recognition of the threat strengthens the women’s resolve, and they are willing to undergo an increased and prolonged danger for each other. Reinforcements show up, as described by the koryphaios:

τουτὶ τὸ πρᾶγμ’ ἡμῖν ἰδεῖν ἀπροσδόκητον ἥκει· ἑσμὸς γυναικῶν οὑτοσὶ θύρασιν αὖ βοηθεῖ. (352-53)

124 On the heroic portrayal of the chorus of older women, see Henderson 1987b: 108, 111-14 and Faraone 2006: 211-14.

This problem has arisen, one we never expected to see: a throng of women has arrived at the gates to help the others!

These women choose to join the fray rather than remain safely uninvolved. The old women participate in their own way: although they are not engaging in the sex strike (they are described as the “old hag” stock type, and so widowed or unmarried) they join the battle (456-61). They are willing to put themselves in harm’s way for the other women, even though they themselves do not have any husbands that they are hoping to bring home from the war.125

The women not only band together in response to a threat, they are actually strong enough to become the aggressors. As Lysistrata relates the story of how she stood up to her husband, we see her gaining self-confidence. I pick up this scene where we left off:

{ΛΥΣΙΣΤΡΑΤΗ} ἢν οὖν ἡμῶν χρηστὰ λεγουσῶν ἐθελήσητ’ ἀντακροᾶσθαι κἀντισιωπᾶθ ὥσπερ χἠμεῖς, ἐπανορθώσαιμεν ἂν ὑμᾶς. {ΠΡΟΒΟΥΛΟΣ} ὑμεῖς ἡμᾶς; δεινόν γε λέγεις κοὐ τλητὸν ἔμοιγε. {ΛΥ} σιώπα. {ΠΡ.} σοί γ’ ὦ κατάρατε σιωπῶ ‘γώ, καὶ ταῦτα κάλυμμα φορούσῃ 530 περὶ τὴν κεφαλήν; μή νυν ζῴην. {ΛΥ} ἀλλ’ εἰ τοῦτ’ ἐμπόδιόν σοι, παρ’ ἐμοῦ τουτὶ τὸ κάλυμμα λαβὼν ἔχε καὶ περίθου περὶ τὴν κεφαλήν, κᾆτα σιώπα καὶ τουτον τὸν καλαθίσκον. 535 κᾆτα ξαίνειν ξυζωσάμενος κυάμους τρώγων· πόλεμος δὲ γυναιξὶ μελήσει. (527-38)

{LYSISTRATA} … So if you are willing to listen to us in turn as we give you good advice, and shut up in turn as we once shut up, then we will fix things. {MAGISTRATE} You give us advice? You are saying outrageous things and I won’t put up with it. {LY} Shut up! {MA} I shut up for you? You cursed woman, and with a veil over your head no less! I would rather die! {LY} But if this bothers you, take my veil and keep it and put it on over your head, and then shut up! And take this little wool basket! Hitch up your skirt and start carding wool! And chew some beans while you work! War shall be the business of womenfolk!

125 Bowie 1993: 190 gives mythical and religious parallels for the ritual activities of the women in this play, arguing that the activities of the old women parallel the ritual of Demeter at Hermione: the uncommon participation of old women in sacrifices on behalf of the city marks an unusual time and situation.

A woman who was once told to shut up is now commanding the magistrate to shut up himself.

She suggests that the magistrate take up the physical markers of oppression: the veil and the wool working.126 She speaks with authority when she tells him that the women have taken over the responsibility for the most traditionally male sphere: war. Their unity gives the women the strength to stand up to the men in spite of their physical inferiority. The men’s and women’s choruses taunt each other throughout the play, something which the women would not be able to do individually, but as a group they become a formidable opponent to the men.

Unable to defeat the unified women, delegates from Athens and Sparta agree to meet with Lysistrata. Konstan notes that Lysistrata is a suitable candidate to reconcile the men of enemy poleis because she has already achieved a similar feat with the women. He says, “It is women as a group who are capable of transcending factional and national differences and acting in concert against the war.”127 Lysistrata uses the same tactics to unify the men: she appeals to common suffering and past cooperation to bring the Spartan and Athenians together, pointing out that both parties have suffered the devastating effects of war in the past, and on multiple occasions each city came to the rescue of the other (1137-56). Both sides capitulate, but largely because of the shared current suffering: lack of sex. Lysistrata announces that the men will cement their unity with an oath (1185), just as the women did. The solidarity among women has served its purpose of ending the war and improving the quality of women’s daily lives at home.

This is illustrated at the end of the play when pairs of husbands and wives are directed to stand side by side, and the Athenian delegate exhorts his fellow men not to make the same mistake

126 Taaffe 1993: 64-66 argues that, because a man can so easily become a woman with a few visual signifiers, this passage shows that woman is a thing constructed by men. This scene calls attention to the fact that male actors construct female roles in a similar manner. 127 Konstan 1993: 441-42.

again (1273-78), that is, not to neglect the affairs of marriage, the home, and women. A modern feminist might hope for a revision to the system that led so easily to the marital violence I described above, but the ancient audience had no such expectation. The koryphaia proposes such a revision when she asks the koryphaios why they cannot have a lasting friendship, but he replies, ὡς ἐγὼ μισῶν γυναῖκας οὐδέποτε παύσομαι (“Because I’ll never stop hating women!” 1018). Bowie points out the irony of the situation: “The women bring about the peace they have so desired, but ironically what they also achieve is the restoration of that male control of the two areas of sexuality and politics which caused all their problems in the first place.”128

The women of this play achieve power over the public discourse about the war, a topic ordinarily in the purview of men, by drawing enough strength from each other to physically oppose the men. Like revolutionaries meeting in dark basements away from the prying ears of authorities, they slowly amass enough group confidence to take on the establishment. This

“revolution” includes all of the standard figures: instigators, tactical advisers, bold women ready to join the cause when asked, cautious women who think of personal safety first, and eloquent speakers who can rouse a crowd to action. Through mere talk the movement expands from one female visionary to the entire gendered group, and Aristophanes has scripted the deliberation, cajoling, demagoguery, and decision-making processes that accompany this expansion. By working together, the women are able to co-opt some of the power traditionally assigned to men, to the extent that they become the physical aggressors. The unification of the women has served its purpose: by ending the war, they end the disruptions to women’s lives. While they were powerless to affect change as individuals, by combining their voices they win themselves a seat at the table. Aristophanes draws attention to the unusualness of their situation: typically women’s

128 Bowie 1993: 202.

silence is guaranteed by a patriarchy that keeps them fragmented, unable to compare notes with other women on a large scale, and in fear of physical abuse if they object to the way men run things. Aristophanes turns the conventional literary depiction on its head, exploring with wit and cleverness how women might overcome these obstacles and, if given a public voice, what they might say.

C. Ecclesiazusae: Women, Men, and the Public Discourse about Government

I end this chapter with the Ecclesiazusae because in it the notion of collective behavior is taken to the extreme when the women of this play set up a communist state in which every individual, regardless of gender, is expected to act for the good of the whole.129 In the opening scenes, the women of this play exhibit the same kind of solidarity that we saw among the women of Lysistrata. Their cohesion is necessary because they have a common enemy – men – and their cooperation with each other provides them with the strength they need to disenfranchise that enemy. But their solidarity by gender is only temporary, directed at the goal of setting up the new government.130 Once the change has taken place, both women and men act as one would expect members of a communist state to act: the solidarity is among all cooperating members of the polis, whether male or female. The resisters resist out of selfishness, a trait that supersedes gender.

The cooperation among women in Lysistrata depended on a sense of equality, the kind that, in theory, would be at the heart of a communist state. In Ecclesiazusae, however,

Praxagora’s character is definitively given a position of social superiority because the women

129 Aristophanes was not the only author creating literary depictions of women in government. For a summary of contemporary works on the subject, including Plato’s Republic, see Henderson 1996: 144. 130 Foley 1982: 14 notes that in all three plays the women intrude into the public sphere – the male domain – with a specific goal, but unlike the women of the Thesmophoriazusae and Lysistrata, the women of the Ecclesiazusae intend for their intrusion to be permanent.

recognize that such a leader is required to achieve their ultimate goal. The figures of Praxagora and Lysistrata have opposite experiences: Lysistrata has a novel idea which she tries to implement amongst the group, but the other women use chiding words to keep her from assuming a position of privilege over her peers. In the Ecclesiazusae, however, the women seem to be looking for someone to take up a position of authority, and in turn are happy to give

Praxagora the privileges that go along with this position of authority. The women came up with the novel idea collectively, and Praxagora emerges as a leader as the result of her superior skills.131 When she gives a mock speech to the assembled women (192-240), they are so impressed by her oratorical prowess that they elect her as general in charge of enacting the plan

(245-47). The offer of such a coveted prize is a far cry from Lysistrata’s previous experience, in which she was forbidden even to drink more than her share of wine (Lys. 238-39). When

Praxagora calls attention to her superior status, none of the women objects: she offers to use all of the women as counselors (συμβούλοισιν, 518) when she is elected to office, and the rest of the women accept this without comment. In Lysistrata’s community, such behavior would have been looked upon as elitist and inappropriate and would have damaged Praxagora’s relationship with the other women. The female communities in Lysistrata and Thesmophoriazusae did not tolerate an individual who attempts to stand out from the crowd, but Praxagora’s community longs for a leader. This is perhaps because in the Ecclesiazusae, Aristophanes deliberately models the women’s interaction on male customs regarding government and public discourse.

Before and after the communist state is established, Praxagora is the only woman with an individual identity, which conflicts with the call for egalitarianism, but again is in service to the cause. She is the only named woman, while the others are known only as generic types like

131 Henderson 1996: 145.

κηρύκαινα, γύνη, θεράπαινα, and γραῦς. She is also the only woman with social identifiers that situate her within the community: she is the wife of Blepyrus, and the mistress of the one of the two houses that appears on stage. This is the opposite of Lysistrata, who was the only woman whose husband, children, and residence were completely absent or only vaguely referenced, allowing the audience to see her as a generic spokesperson for the female viewpoint. Praxagora’s unusual position continues after the establishment of the communist state, in which she is the only one who stands apart from the crowd of equals. As the newly elected leader, she must see to her duties of overseeing the agora, finding a herald, and organizing the first communal dinner

(711-16). Meanwhile, the others concern themselves only with adopting the communist lifestyle: they donate their belongings to the common store (730-45), partake of the feast (834-52), and argue about the new policy of equal sexual access (877-1111). Until the final scene with

Blepyrus, in which he emerges as a second distinct personality, Praxagora is conspicuous as an individual while the rest of the characters are stock types with generic identities, included to show us the comedic effects of the new system of government.

Much attention has been paid to gender bending, in this play and in the other plays of

Aristophanes, but I would like to address the idea of sexual difference in the Ecclesiazusae: the women of this play remain essentially women in spite of the fact that they attempt to imitate men. While Taaffe argues that, for their plan to work, the women need to become men but are not able to, I argue that the women want not to become men, and so they succeed in their endeavor to retain their essential female nature.132 The plot requires that the women, played of course by male actors, impersonate men in order to vote control of the city over to the women. In preparation for the assembly, the women imitate men by adopting men’s visual signifiers –

132 Taaffe 1991: 100-2.

clothes, armpit hair, tanned skin – and practicing men’s speech mannerisms. Taaffe catalogues all of the ways in which the women fall short of their goal: Woman A is visually contradictory because, although dressed as a man, she brings her wool working to the assembly (88-89), and

Woman B remarks that their beards look incongruous (125). The women are aware of the potential seriousness of their inability to truly become men, as Woman B says: καὶ πῶς

γυναικῶν θηλύφρων ξυνουσία | δημηγορήσει; (“And how can the female-minded congregation of women speak at the assembly?” 110-11). She understands that, although they look like men, they retain the disposition and mindset of women. Taaffe makes a connection between gender and power and argues that the success of the women depends on their ability to imitate men, which only Praxagora achieves with any believability. Their failure to carry off the imitation with consistency, she argues, results ultimately in their failure to govern the city. As I see it, however, the women’s success depends on the fact that their essential nature is different from men’s: they do not want to fully become men, because the plan relies upon the differences between the sexes. When Woman A calls attention to these differences, Praxagora explains how they will work to their advantage. First, Praxagora takes a quality that is conventionally viewed negatively and gives it a positive spin. She says:

λέγουσι γὰρ καὶ τῶν νεανίσκων ὅσοι πλεῖστα σποδοῦνται, δεινοτάτους εἶναι λέγειν· ἡμῖν δ’ ὑπάρχει τοῦτο κατὰ τύχην τινά. (112-14)

They say that the young men who get reamed the most, they are the ones that are most cunning at speaking. As luck would have it, this is exactly what suits us!

Women’s sexual passivity might set them apart from real men, but in this instance it is a trait shared with politically inclined, up-and-coming orators, and so will work in their favor. They are different from adult men in this respect, but this difference will be crucial to the success of the plan because it will help them be better public speakers. Praxagora seems to delight in being

sexually dominated and to subscribe to the belief that woman is submissive by nature. This is a blatant comic stereotype, but Aristophanes has turned it into an asset within the fictional plot.

The stereotype of gabbing is similarly given a positive angle when Praxagora explains that they must practice their speeches in order to appear as accomplished orators, but this practice should come easily to the women because they are naturally endowed with the gift of gab, and Woman

A agrees (118-20). Women’s proclivity for talking will ultimately help them achieve their goal of convincing the men to vote control of the city over to the women. Praxagora plans to unite their individual and private voices, direct them towards a common and public cause, and thereby deprive the men of their civic voice.

The things that make women different from men have been important in phase one of the plan, convincing the men to transfer power to them. These traits will also be important in phase two of the plan, in which the women reorganize the government. The men have governed the city poorly because of their distinctly male ways, but the women will succeed where they failed because of their distinctly female ways. In her practice speech, Praxagora explains that the city would be better off if run by women because women have superior character:

ὡς δ’ εἰσὶν ἡμῶν τοὺς τρόπους βελτίονες ἐγὼ διδάξω. πρῶτα μὲν γὰρ τἄρια 215 βάπτουσι θερμῷ κατὰ τὸν ἀρχαῖον νόμον ἁπαξάπασαι, κοὐχὶ μεταπειρωμένας ἴδοις ἂν αὐτάς. ἡ δ’ Ἀθηναίων πόλις, εἰ τοῦτο χρηστῶς εἶχεν, οὐκ ἂν ἐσῴζετο, εἰ μή τι καινὸν ἄλλο περιηργάζετο. 220 καθήμεναι φρύγουσιν ὥσπερ καὶ πρὸ τοῦ· ἐπὶ τῆς κεφαλῆς φέρουσιν ὥσπερ καὶ πρὸ τοῦ· (214-22)

I will demonstrate how [women] are superior to us in character. First, they dye their wool in hot water according to the ancient customs, each and every one of them, and you won’t see them trying anything new. But the state of the Athenians, if things worked well, would not keep things as is, unless there was nothing new to expend their energy on. But they sit while roasting food, just as they always have; and they carry things on their head, just as they always have;

The list continues with other things that women do in the same fashion that they always have done. She calls attention to the conservative nature of women’s character: that they do not change their ways but rely on time-tested traditions is viewed as a strength. Their traditional nature will be an asset when they take over control of the city, and so they will succeed where men have failed precisely because of their gendered differences. Praxagora, disguised as a man and addressing the assembly, calls for the men to hand over the government of the city without hesitation:

ταύταισιν οὖν ὦνδρες παραδόντες τὴν πόλιν μὴ περιλαλῶμεν, μηδὲ πυνθανώμεθα τί ποτ’ ἄρα δρᾶν μέλλουσιν, ἀλλ’ ἁπλῷ τρόπῳ ἐῶμεν ἄρχειν, … (229-32)

And so, men, let us hand over the city to [the women] and not prattle on about the matter nor inquire what they plan to do in the future, but let’s allow them to rule in their simple way…

The men are not supposed to ask how the women plan to rule, nor even stop to discuss the possible consequences. She asks them to simply use their civic power to surrender civic power, since there is no place for the men in the transition to the new form of government. Once the proposal has passed, Praxagora asks the women to quickly shed their masculine markers:

ταυτὶ μὲν ἡμῖν ὦ γυναῖκες εὐτυχῶς τὰ πράγματ’ ἐκβέβηκεν ἁβουλεύσαμεν. ἀλλ’ ὡς τάχιστα πρίν τιν’ ἀνθρώπων ἰδεῖν, ῥιπτεῖτε χλαίνας, ἐμβὰς ἐκποδὼν ἴτω, χάλα συναπτοὺς ἡνίας Λακωνικάς, βακτηρίας ἄφεσθε. (504-9)

Ladies, the things that we devised have fortunately come to pass. But, as quickly as possible, before anyone sees, cast off your cloaks, and get rid of those shoes – undo the fastened Laconian reins – and throw away your walking sticks.

For the plan to work, the women are supposed to be women, not women acting like men. They only needed to impersonate men for the first part of the plan, the part that involved using oratorical skills to sway the vote of the assembly. The assembly is a man’s arena, and oratory is a

man’s skill, or, as Praxagora pointed out, an effeminate man’s skill. If we view gender as a continuum rather than two discrete categories, the women merely had to slide a little further towards “male” on the scale, in order to appropriate enough masculinity to be granted an audience in the assembly, but to retain enough femininity to be persuasive with speech, a weapon traditionally belonging to women and effeminate men.133

For the second part of the plan, the women no longer desire to impersonate men because the men’s theories of governing the polis have failed. Instead, they intend to govern the city in a distinctly non-male way, relying on very different principles. The women’s theory of governance involves the same principles of local networking discussed in Chapter 2. Since polis is a network of individuals, albeit a very large one, the women attempt to organize the polis in the same way that they have organized their personal, smaller networks. Praxagora indicates that in the new state, everyone will share land, money and possessions (590-94, 597-98), just as women share their own possessions with their female friends (446-50). The women will be stewards of the common fund:

εἶτ’ ἀπὸ τούτων κοινῶν ὄντων ἡμεῖς βοσκήσομεν ὑμᾶς ταμιευόμεναι καὶ φειδόμεναι καὶ τὴν γνώμην προσέχουσαι. (599-600)

We will feed you from the common store, dispersing and withholding things according to good judgment.

The women will be responsible for managing the resources of the state just as they have been responsible for managing the resources of their households; and they will hold the primary responsibility for making sure that their men are taken care of with those resources, just as they have in the past on a smaller scale. Praxagora plans to build up this new, polis-wide network in the same way that one builds up a local network. She announces:

133 Belonging to women: McClure 1999: 62-68. Belonging to effeminate men: see Praxagora’s earlier joke about buggered boys making the best orators.

τὸ γὰρ ἄστυ μίαν οἴκησίν φημι ποιήσειν συρρήξασ’ εἰς ἓν ἅπαντα, ὥστε βαδίζειν ὡς ἀλλήλους. (673- 75)

For I say that I will make the city one household by smashing down all the walls to make one property, so that everyone can walk into each other’s space.

Praxagora will extend the common network by tearing down the walls between houses, just as

Demea of the Adelphoe extended the personal network of two households by tearing down the wall that separated their properties (906-10). The communist state that Praxagora sets up mirrors the organization of women’s localized social circles, and Praxagora intends that the new state operate in much the same way as the smaller networks to which she is accustomed.

Once the communist state is in effect, there is a great deal of resistance to the ideal of unity. Taaffe has argued that Praxagora’s polis is a failure: the selfish man refuses to turn over his goods to the common store, the new rules for sexual equality turn out to be a disaster, and the audience is invited to a feast, but not the common feast – they must go home and prepare their own meals.134 Furthermore, the women, who presented a united voice before Praxagora’s decree precisely because they had been denied a public voice, become fragmented after achieving a place in the public arena. Competition between women, in this case sexual competition, threatens the cohesion of the community just like the pre-communist polis was threatened by competition between men over money and power.135 The end result, as the audience can see, is that this experiment with communism has not succeeded: all parties do not get free food, endless sex, and an equal share of goods. The women chose to organize the city in the only way they knew how, but they encountered similar problems to the ones experienced in the male-run city. The principles upon which their local friendship networks were based are not sustainable in a large-

134 Taaffe 1991: 105. 135 O’Higgins 2003: 171.

scale polis. Foley connects the comic failure to the women’s attempt to impose household management principles to the larger scale polis:

Communism, for example, is made to seem absurd because … a state cannot operate on the same terms of shared interest and informal negotiations as the household. At the same time, if oikos and polis were institutions defined simply by their radical opposition to each other, the plot of the Ecclesiazusae would have considerably less satiric force.136

The women’s attempt at reorganizing the government failed because they retained their essential femininity, even though they thought this trait would be the secret of their success.137

Note, however, that the starting point for the play is the observation that the men’s system for organizing government is also a failure. The government was ineffective when the men denied the women a public voice, but it was also ineffective when the women denied men a public voice. According to Shaw, Aristophanes uses the play to show that the current failings of the polis are due to overly masculine principles (e.g., greed and innovation), but a government based only on feminine virtues would fail, too. The message of the play, then, is to gently remind the audience of feminine strengths, such as social cooperation, so that the men of Athens will incorporate the assets of both genders in their governance of the polis. Shaw says, “It serves the highest good of society for the members of society to be fully human, but the very operation of society erodes the character of its members.”138

D. Conclusion: Gender and Public Voice in Aristophanes

In each of these three plays, Aristophanes has presented a situation in which, through ineptitude or deliberate malice, men have negatively impacted the daily lives of women. Such women would traditionally be powerless in such circumstances, since they are denied a public

136 Foley 1982: 16. 137 Foley 1982: 5 notes that, in the Ecclesiazusae, female intrusion into the political sphere threatens the traditional balance as much as the male failures that provoked their intrusion, while female intrusion in Lysistrata results in peace and a restoration of balance. 138 Shaw 1975: 266.

voice by a society that keeps them fragmented. However, Aristophanes stages a revolution in which the women first overcome the social conventions that keep them from assembling en masse to discuss common concerns and voice discontent over the status quo; then they combine their voices in such a way that they can affect the public discourse, achieving together what they could not achieve alone. They are only able to do so when they present a united front, ignoring their individual needs and privileging a social agenda that is for the betterment of the gendered group. Female relationships are a major theme of the plays: their marginalization leads to their solidarity,139 and the playwright highlights that they relate to each other and to men in a specifically female way. Konstan summarizes: “The women offer a different model of social relations, both domestic and international, a model which, viewed from the perspective of masculine codes of differentiation, appears transgressive. The women, in a word, act as a body,”140 representing an alternative order based on social solidarity. These are but three of

Aristophanes’ extant plays, and they have earned the name “women plays” among scholars because their focus on women is so marked: while female characters comprise most of the stage time in these three plays, they are barely present in Aristophanes’ remaining works. In contrast, many New Comedies show communities of women interacting along side of communities of men.

139 Konstan 1993: 442 says of the women in Lysistrata, “Their solidarity is a function of their marginalization with respect to the power structure of the city-state,” but the sentiment applies to all three plays. 140 Konstan 1993: 442.

Chapter 4. Solidarity by Class: Relationships between Courtesans

For the remainder of the dissertation we turn to New Comedy, in which relationships between women take on a very different characterization. The presentation of women’s relationships in Old Comedy was political and broadly social, but that of New Comedy is more focused and personal. The authors of New Comedy examine one or two households and the relationships between key figures. They may present the relationship between a woman and one or two of her close friends, and the concerns of these women usually revolve around their own needs or that of their friends and families, rather than the entire polis, as in Aristophanes. This chapter focuses on relationships between courtesans (Greek hetairai and Latin meretrices) in

Menander, Plautus, and Terence. As with the previous chapter, I ask what social risks they are willing to take for each other, what decisions they must make in the process, and what social and emotional factors influence those decisions. Through accident of preservation, there is no good surviving example of relationships between courtesans in Menander, although there are extensive clues. I will briefly examine the evidence from Menander’s Dis Exapaton and Synaristosai before evaluating the relationship of sisters of Plautus’ Bacchides, a mother and a daughter in

Plautus’ Asinaria, two mother-daughter pairs in Plautus’s Cistellaria, and Thais and her foster- sister in Terence’s Eunuch.

Although there are many references to prostitutes in Aristophanes, they rarely speak, and when they are shown, it is for their relationship to men, not to each other: Aristophanes includes a prostitute to indicate that a public figure has been corrupted by excessive desire, or he presents them as objects of men’s desire.141 Prostitutes in Aristophanes are usually referred to as pornai,

141 For a survey of the literary treatment of prostitutes in Aristophanes, see Henry 1985: 18-31. For the literary treatment of prostitutes before Aristophanes, see Henry 1985: 6-18 and Henry 2011.

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and the word hetaira appears only twice (Peace 439-40, Thesm. 346).142 As literary figures, hetairai and pseudo-hetairai (the term conventionally used by scholars to designate citizen foundlings who are raised by hetairai) are introduced in Middle Comedy, where there is a new focus on hetairai as individuals who act as independent agents with the power to enchant men.143

New Comedy increasingly depicts domestic plots which have threats to the social order of the oikos as a major theme, and for that reason hetairai and pseudo-hetairai become more prevalent.144 These courtesans, unlike those of Aristophanes and Middle Comedy, show self- awareness by discussing their trade, and might be portrayed in a sympathetic light, with hetairai shown as self-sacrificing victims and pseudo-hetairai as pawns.145 Henry credits Menander with changing the characterization of the hetaira so that she is “heroic and vital to the plot:” while the male characters view her through cultural prejudices, “each woman transcends her status and prejudices against it with an act of valor.”146 Henry concludes that each of Menander’s courtesans “proves to be the moral superior of her detractors,” and Zeitlin shows that Terence adopts this positive characterization.147

In this chapter I hope to show that Menander, Plautus, and Terence, the New Comic authors from whom we have the most material (presumably because they were the most successful), create more interesting characters by portraying the human side of courtesans.

142 For the distinction (or lack thereof) between porne and hetaira in Greek culture and literature, see Cohen 2006: 97-98 and Glazebrook and Henry 2011: 4-8. See Kapparis 2011 for an extensive survey of terminology for prostitution in Greek literature. 143 Dover 1968: 147-48; Henry 1985: 36. 144 Henry 1985: 43-46 notes that many surviving titles of lost New Comedies refer to hetairai and pseudo-hetairai: Philemon’s Aneneuomene, Gamos, Euripos, Korinthia, Mystis, Neaira, Panegyris, and Ptoche/Rhodia; Diphilus’s Apoleipousa, Leukadia, Lemniai, Pallakis, and Pyrrha; and Apollodorus’ Apoleipousa, Ennaia, Lakaina, Paidion, and Sphattomene. 145 Henry 1985: 48. 146 Henry 1985: 48 and 51. 147 Henry 1985: 110; Zeitlin 1998.

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Rather than identifying these women purely by their profession – prostitution – the playwrights identify them as sisters, daughters, mothers, and friends. However, their social position remains a factor in their relationships with each other, for which reason I provide a brief background to

Greek and Roman prostitution here.

Historical Greek and Roman prostitutes might be slaves, who are forced by their masters to sell themselves; freedwomen, who often served as prostitutes before their manumission and for whom this is the most viable source of income once they are free; or metics and citizens, who are forced into the trade by poverty and an economy that provides few job opportunities for women.148 Middle and New Comic literary tradition focuses predominantly on the free hetairai, rather than enslaved brothel-dwellers.149 These women run a business out of their oikoi and operate much like any other self-employed Greek: they can turn down customers and bar the gates to outsiders, but ultimately they need to accept enough customers to make a living.150 Their extensive use of detailed contracts, as seen in Asinaria (751-808), reflects their desire to avoid the appearance of slavishness: the contract indicates that both parties have control in the relationship, and both are free to leave, with penalties.151 For courtesans, the opportunities for financial stability are rather limited, which often forces them to consider their relationships from a business standpoint rather than an emotional one. Scholars refer to a mercenary motive, arguing that some New Comedy courtesans make decisions based solely on desire for money.152

This somewhat negative moral judgment overlooks the fact that courtesans are often forced to consider money above all else in their relationships out of economic necessity, not greed.

148 McGinn 2004: 59-61; Cohen 2006: 101. See Fantham 1975: 49-50 on metics in particular. 149 Cohen 2006: 102. 150 Fantham 1975: 50-51; Cohen 2006: 112. 151 Cohen 2006: 109-112. 152 Duckworth 1994: 259; Konstan 1983: 147; Crisafulli 1998: 224-25.

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The Middle and New Comedians presumably inherited a variety of conventions from earlier drama, both Attic tragedy and Old Comedy, but Menander, Plautus, and Terence were particularly skilled at presenting these common themes in new and creative ways. Zagagi argues that such creativity was Menander’s way of trying to prove his superiority to his predecessors, and his particular skill with this kind of innovation contributed greatly to his success.153

Frequently Menander created characters that did not adhere to the stereotypes, such as soldiers who were not boastful and hetairai who were not greedy.154 In one of his famously metatheatrical prologues, Terence references the difficulty of creating something new in a genre that depends so heavily on conventions. He defends himself against charges of contaminatio by claiming that all comics have access to the same personae, including the meretrix mala (Eun. 37-

41), who wants nothing more than to deceive her lovers and drain their pocketbooks. But

Terence’s meretrices were not bound by these conventions: Donatus says that Terence dared to make socrus bonas (“good mothers-in-law”) and meretrices honesti cupidas (“courtesans desirous of virtue”).155 Likewise, Plautus himself boasts that his Captivi will be an unusual play because it does not contain any of the expected characters, including the periurus leno, the miles gloriosus, and the meretrix mala (57-58). Plutarch attempts to describe the complexity with which Menander treats the hetaira stock type, saying that, in his love plots, Menander presents two categories of hetairai: those who are ἰταμαὶ καὶ θρασεῖαι (forward and bold), and those

153 Zagagi 1994: 19-45. 154 Handley 1970: 4; Zagagi 1994: 29. 155 Donatus ad Hec. 774: Multa Terentius feliciter ausus est arte fretus, nam et socrus bonas et meretrices honesti cupidas praeter quam pervulgatum est facit. sed tanta vigilantia causarum et rationum momenta subiungit, ut ei soli merito videatur totum licere. nam hoc contra illud est, quod alibi (Eun. 37) ait, commune iam esse omnibus comicis ‘bonas matronas facere meretrices malas.’ Text from Wessner 1902: 330.

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who are χρησταὶ καὶ ἀντέρωσαι (good and loving-in-return).156 This passage has led many to try to place the courtesans of Menander, or those of Roman plays adapted from Menander, into one of these two categories, although many scholars reject this as an oversimplification of

Menander’s characters.157

Gilula challenges Plutarch’s schema altogether, arguing that all courtesans are “bad” by design, since good and bad are moral terms defined by the desires of citizen males: the men want free love, but the social position of courtesans necessitate that they charge a fee for their services.158 Knorr follows this view that morality is in the eye of the beholder when he argues that Bacchis of the Heautontimoroumenos is “good” in her actions (as written by Terence) but perceived as and described as “bad” by the other male characters of the play.159 He concludes that Plutarch’s categories of mala and bona “do not so much indicate moral qualities as categories defined by the economic needs of their male paying customers. Accordingly, a hetaira is ‘good’ when she loves her customer in return and ‘bad’ when she drives a hard bargain.”160

Accordingly, Gruen and Fantham reject the dichotomy: Gruen creates a new term, mixta meretrix, for a meretrix who partakes of the characteristics of both the bona and mala. Fantham demonstrates that Terence mixes characteristics of good and bad to create suspense regarding a courtesan’s character and anticipated actions.161 I agree wholeheartedly with the interpretations of Gilula and Knorr: the courtesans in extant New Comedy are interesting precisely because they are not easily categorized as bona or mala, but instead are complex individuals.

156 Quaestiones Convivales 7.8.712C. 157 Those who accept the system include Anderson 1984 and Zeitlin 2005. Those who reject it include Brown 1990 and Gilula 1980. 158 Gilula 1980: 143, 145. 159 Knorr 1995: 231. 160 Knorr 1995: 222. 161 Gruen 1991: 1 and Fantham 2004: 287.

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The very question of whether a hetaira or meretrix is good or bad privileges the perspective of the citizen men in the plays and is therefore of limited value. Such a dichotomy oversimplifies a woman’s motives, and more significantly, assesses her motives from the wrong perspective. I therefore suggest a new direction by analyzing the women’s behavior in relationship to each other, rather than just their relationships to their suitors. This chapter looks at the factors in play in a courtesan’s relationship with other courtesans, which includes but is not limited to her need for income and her possible affection for a male lover. Mutual financial need may foster bonding among courtesans so that friends and family members cooperate to secure customers, ensure a steady income for each member of the friendship, and provide emotional support for each other. Mothers, who are retired from active prostitution, must manage their daughters like employees so that the younger generation can support the entire household, which we see in the Asinaria and Cistellaria. They struggle, however, to balance this need with the desire for their daughters to be happy. Daughters, meanwhile, experience an internal war between following their hearts and heeding their mothers’ wishes. The Cistellaria juxtaposes two different kinds of mother-daughter relationships: in the first, the daughter is a true courtesan and the mercenary motive takes priority, but in the second, the daughter is revealed to be a citizen by birth, and her relationship with her adopted mother is different both because of conscious decisions made in light of the knowledge of her citizenship but also as the result of what Plautus depicts as the innate character of a citizen girl, which distinguishes her from a non-citizen girl, regardless of the fact that she is ignorant of her true social status.

A. Menander’s Dis Exapaton and Synaristosai

Unfortunately, little evidence survives for how Menander treated the relationship between courtesans. His Dis Exapaton, which Plautus adapted for the Bacchides, is known only

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from two papyri and five ancient citations.162 Approximately 100 lines remain, in which the courtesan sisters do not speak but are referred to several times. Henry believes that Menander would have shown these women in a sympathetic light, perhaps by showing that their relationship as sisters transcended their social status.163 Anderson theorized that Plautus based his ending for the Bacchides closely on the Dis Exapaton, which indicates that Menander’s sisters fulfilled the important role of restoring the social order of the oikos at the end of the play.164

Menander’s lost Synaristosai, upon which Plautus’ Cistellaria is based, is known to us through a few fragments and several well preserved mosaics at Mytilene, Pompeii, Zeugma, and

Antioch.165 It is possible to conclude from the content of the Cistellaria and title of the

Synaristosai (“Women at Lunch”) that Menander’s play showed courtesans interacting with each other. Mosaics, many of which are labeled, confirm at least one scene – the title scene in which the women dine together – showed multiple women on stage at the same time. Henry postulates that Pythias was a mother figure to the foundling Plangon, whom she reared, but there is not enough evidence to speculate on the nature of their relationship.166 It is entirely possible that

Plautus’ Melaenis (in the Cistellaria) is based directly upon Pythias. Although we can make few conclusions about the relationships between women in Menander, it is important to note that

162 P. Oxy 4407 (Handley and Wartenberg 1997) was first published and discussed in pieces: Handley 1968: 22-25 covers lines 11-30 and 91-112, and Sandbach 1972: 39-40 covers lines 47- 63 and 89-90. P. Antinoopolis 122 (Barns and Zilliacus 1967) appears to contain the Greek original for Plautus’ Bacchides, lines 494-526. Six additional fragments of the Dis Exapaton survive and can be found in Koerte and Thierfelder 1957: v. 2, p. 49-50 (fragments 109-114). 163 Henry 1985: 99. 164 Anderson 1972: 169-70. 165 For a summary of the evidence for this play, see Arnott 2004b, which covers all but the recently discovered Antioch mosaic. This mosaic is published in Çelik 2009 and discussed by Gutzwiller 2011. 166 Henry 1985: 128.

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Plautus and Terence, from whom we have substantial material, built upon a tradition that they inherited directly through Menander and other New Comic poets and were surely influenced by their innovations.

B. Plautus’ Bacchides: Sisters and Business Partners

While we can only hypothesize about the relationship between the sisters in Menander’s

Dis Exapaton, the Plautine play based upon it survives almost in its entirety and shows ample interaction between these two women. The two Bacchides are sisters and meretrices who make decisions according to the financial necessities of their profession, but their affection for each other means that they consider each other’s needs, rather than attempting to go it alone. Their primary concern is finding a way to continue living in the same city, despite financial hardships that threaten to separate them. They are loyal to each other due to sisterly affection, but also because of a mutual understanding that collaboration brings in more business. There is little to no possibility for social mobility: since they are true meretrices (and not kidnapped citizen girls), they have no prospects for a different life, but must focus on making enough money in their youth to support themselves in old age.

The rather fragmentary opening of the play introduces two sisters and their love affairs.167

Bacchis of Ephesus, whom I will refer to as Soror, was involved in the past with Mnesilochus, who now comes to Athens in search of her. Meanwhile, a soldier has paid to have exclusive access to her for a year, and she fears he will soon leave Athens, forcing her to accompany him, unless she can buy her freedom. Bacchis of Athens desires to help her sister purchase her freedom and so concocts a scheme to get the money from Mnesilochus. This opening informs the audience that sisterly affection is a strong motive in their actions, and the spectator is aware that

167 Gaiser 1970: 65-69, who reconstructs the opening of the Bacchides, postulates that three scenes have been lost.

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the praxis will follow Bacchis’ endeavors to free her sister so that they can remain together in

Athens. In the relationship between the two women, Bacchis is the dominant personality, and her sister, whom I will call Soror, follows her lead. The deference that Soror pays to Bacchis is much like that which a younger sibling pays to an elder; therefore I will refer to Bacchis as the elder, although we do not know their relative ages. Bacchis makes the decisions for both, and her younger sister accepts and follows these decisions with little resistance, as seen in this discussion of their plans:

{BA} quid si hoc potis est ut tu taceas, ego loquar? {SO} lepide, licet. {BA} ubi me fugiet memoria, ibi tu facito ut subvenias, soror.168 (35-36)

{BA} How about, if it’s even possible, you be quiet and I do the talking? {SO} Yes, by all means! {BA} When my memory fails me, see to it that you come to my aid, sister.

Plautus does not miss the chance to use the comic stereotype that women are loquacious to a fault, but this passage also shows us the dynamic of the relationship between the two sisters.

Soror readily defers to the authority of her sister, and they agree that Bacchis will take control of business matters in the subsequent encounter with Pistoclerus.

Bacchis does not have direct access to Mnesilochus, so she must work through his friend

Pistoclerus, whom Mnesilochus sent to Athens in search of Bacchis of Ephesus. While working to get the money from Mnesilochus, she simultaneously seduces Pistoclerus in order to win financial support from him, too. If the audience were not aware of Bacchis’ desire to secure her sister’s freedom, it would appear that her schemes have the main goal of separating men from their money: she is a shrewd businesswoman, who demonstrates no affection for her customers.

Her actions do not win the meretrices a favorable opinion from the men in the play, but that is because the men’s desire for free love is in direct contradiction to the women’s need for income.

168 Latin text for the Bacchides, Asinaria, and Cistellaria is taken from Lindsay 1903.

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Bacchis adopts the only strategy that will enable her to both live near her sister and support herself financially. Pistoclerus voices the suspicion with which he views meretrices:

{PI} quid agunt duae germanae meretrices cognomines? quid in consilio consulvistis? {BA} bene. {PI} pol haud meretriciumst. {BA} miserius nihil est quam mulier. (39-41)

{PI} (aside) What are those twin harlots of the same name up to? (to Bacchis) What are you two consulting about? {BA} Something good. {PI} Not likely from a prostitute. {BA} (aside) There is nothing more miserable than a woman!

Bacchis’ last comment shows that she understands the prejudices faced by her kind, and she draws up her strategy with this in mind: in order to be successful, she must put Pistoclerus off his guard by making him believe she seeks no money or gifts from him.

The conversation that ensues between the two is a subtle dance in which Bacchis secures

Pistoclerus’ involvement by misleading him about his role. Bacchis sets herself up as a third- party with no financial motives, convincing Pistoclerus that he will be doing her a favor, which will leave her indebted to him, a debt that she insinuates she will pay with her physical affection.

True to her earlier agreement with Soror, Bacchis takes charge of the conversation and leaves

Soror out of the negotiations. She answers Pistoclerus’ question (line 40, quoted above), with:

haec ita me orat sibi qui caveat aliquem ut hominem reperiam, ut istunc militem — ut, ubi emeritum sibi sit, se revehat domum. id, amabo te, huic caveas. (42-44)

[My sister] here is begging me to find someone to look out for her interests with regards to this soldier of ours, so that, when she has served her time, he will return her to our house. Be a dear, help her in this.

The soldier has legally purchased Soror for a year and so can rightfully take her home as his ancilla (44-45), unless she can pay him back (46). It is unclear whether the sisters are simply unwilling to be separated for the year, or whether they fear that Soror will not be able to return once her contract has expired. Once the soldier takes Soror out of Athens, she will be a stranger

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in a foreign land, with no social contacts other than the soldier. With such dependency, she may end up in his service indefinitely, or at the very least be trapped abroad with no way back to

Athens.

Although Bacchis casually mentioned the monetary solution to Soror’s problem, she does not suggest that she wants any money from Pistoclerus at first. Rather, she begins with the seemingly innocuous suggestion that he come to their house while she explains the problem (47-

48). The dramatic space of the stage is the street in front of two houses, both represented by doors in the skene, and one of these houses belongs to the Bacchides.169 Pistoclerus is therefore more or less already at Bacchis’ house when she makes this suggestion: it is easy to bait him when he is all but in the trap. Bacchis suggests that he sit down and wait for the soldier, and promises kisses (savium, 49) in return. But Pistoclerus is suspicious because he understands that meretrices do not give kisses for free, and it is unlikely that the favor for which she appears to be asking will satisfy his debt. He calls her offers blanditia (50), the well recognized means of manipulation used by courtesans against libidinous men.170 Continued involvement will cost him actual money sooner or later. He says, non ego istuc facinus mihi, mulier, conducibile esse arbitror (“Madam, I think this business is unprofitable for me,” 52). He fears that if he is in close proximity to a beautiful and seductive woman, and there are no cultural mores to hold him back, he will start to do things for which he will then owe money. Bacchis assures him that she will stop his advances (57), and she decides to lay out the full plan for him in order to alleviate his suspicion. She tells him that he only needs to stick around until the soldier arrives, because his mere presence will prevent the soldier from harming the women or taking Soror (57-62). It

169 See Rosivach 1986: 430-34 on the stage setting of this play. 170 See McClure 1999: 62-68; Dutsch 2005; and Dutsch 2008: 49-91 on the verbal genre of women’s seductive persuasion. Karakasis 2003: 49-52 analyzes the blandishments of this scene specifically.

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becomes more apparent that Bacchis is proposing that Pistoclerus pretend to be her lover: he is supposed to be in her home, where he will sit with her on the couch and she will give him kisses.

Slater likens this scene to a play within a play, in which Bacchis has invited Pistoclerus to play a role in her farce, and he must decide whether he intends to participate. Of this role, Pistoclerus asks himself, utrum ego istuc iocon adsimulem an serio? (“Should I play it for a joke or seriously?” 75). Whichever he decides, he is still playing a role,171 because there is such a fine line between pretending and actually being her lover: as soon as he touches her, something that it would be incredibly difficult for him to avoid, it would constitute a purchase of the goods. He would therefore owe money on the product that he already consumed, since you cannot undo a touch or caress. He is fully aware of the slippery slope in her proposal: rapidus fluvius est hic, non hac temere transiri potest, (“This is a swiftly moving stream. Crossing should not be undertaken lightly!” 85).

As the conversation turns to the money that Pistoclerus will undoubtedly be separated from, it becomes apparent that Bacchis has been attending to two goals: keeping her sister in

Athens and earning money. Her initial strategy removed suspicion from herself long enough to lure Pistoclerus into her house and onto her lectus. She appeared at first to be putting her sister’s needs before her own, but soon we see that she has steadily been working on securing income for herself, too. In response to Pistoclerus’ comment about the rapidus fluvius, Bacchis says, atque ecastor apud hunc fluvium aliquid perdundumst tibi (“And, by Castor, you are sure to lose something in this river!” 86). Once Pistoclerus agrees to pose as her lover to help protect Soror

(92), Bacchis masterfully secures the first payment. She announces that she will host a dinner and asks Pistoclerus to attend, posing as her lover (93-96). Allowing Bacchis to pay insults his

171 Slater 2000: 78.

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sense of decency, so he insists on covering the cost of the dinner himself (97-98). Bacchis has secured the first financial reward for both herself and her sister, who will also be attending the lavish dinner.172 In a private conversation, Soror praises Bacchis for having “caught” Pistoclerus

(102), that is, for having secured an ongoing relationship in which he will continue to pay for her services, as is typical of an amator-meretrix relationship.

The relationship that Bacchis negotiated is of financial benefit mainly to herself; she has not yet accomplished her stated goal of obtaining Soror’s release from the soldier. Lest she appear to be neglecting her, Bacchis quickly turns the conversation to Soror’s problem:

{BA} tibi nunc operam dabo de Mnesilocho, soror, ut hic accipias potius aurum quam hinc eas cum milite. {SO} cupio. {BA} dabitur opera. aqua calet: eamus hinc intro ut laves. nam uti navi vecta es, credo timida es. (103-6)

{BA} Now I will focus my efforts on Mnesilochus, sister, so that you can bring in some money rather than go off with the soldier. {SO} This is what I desire. {BA} I’ll work on it. The water is warm: let us go inside so that you can bathe. For after your journey by sea, you must be tired.

If Bacchis is the dominant personality, she sees to it that she earns this position. Although leaning on Pistoclerus was part of the plan to secure Soror’s freedom, it appears thus far to be benefiting Bacchis more than Soror. It is therefore important to the sisters’ relationship that

Bacchis verbally acknowledge, with operam dabo and dabitur opera, that she is still working on

Soror’s problem.173 In order to maintain and justify her position, she must see to the needs of those who accept her authority and depend on her leadership. The two are well suited for each

172 Maurach 1983 discusses the central theme of deception (a key part of the Menandrian original) illustrated in this scene: Bacchis tries and fails four times to get Pistoclerus to join her scheme, and his help is finally enlisted only through deception. As the play unfolds, Plautus examines how the fact that his involvement began under false pretenses leads to his exploitation. 173 Tannen 1990: 249 has observed that modern U.S. women find it important to verbally affirm that they are following the socially prescribed rules. Tannen is a socio-linguist who studies men and women in conversation.

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other: Bacchis feels compelled to take care of her sister, and Soror wants someone to look out for her. The arrangement helps both achieve their financial goals, which in turn helps them stay together in Athens, something that is clearly important to them.

We do not see the sisters again until near the end of the play in a scene that revisits their financial needs. The women are approached by two senes, the fathers of Pistoclerus and

Mnesilochus, who are upset that their sons have spent so much family money on the meretrices.

The fathers, called Nicobulus and Philoxenus, blame their loss on the wily ways of the meretrices rather than the poor judgment of their sons. The girls chat between themselves, comparing the old men to sheep that do not have any milk or wool, that is, nothing of pecuniary value (1121-40). They do not engage the senes in conversation, despite the men’s attempts.

Because they believe that they can no longer get money out of these men, the sisters act as if they do not exist: they were never people, just wallets, and when the wallets are empty, they are overlooked. This treatment continues until Bacchis concocts a new scheme, realizing that there is still a way to get money out of the two fathers. Although they have discovered and put a stop to their sons’ expenditures, she realizes that the fathers may yet be susceptible to seduction themselves. If they are not willing to pay for their sons’ affairs, they may be willing to pay for their own.

Again Bacchis takes the lead, but she also demonstrates that she is fair to her sister. It is

Bacchis who requests private counsel with Soror and Bacchis who suggests the new plan:

{BA} soror, est quod te volo secreto. {SO} eho, amabo. {NICOBULUS} quo illaec abeunt? {BA} senem illum tibi dedo ulteriorem, lepide ut lenitum reddas; ego ad hunc iratum adgrediar. possumus nos hos intro inlicere huc. {SO} meum pensum ego lepide accurabo: quam odiosum est mortem amplexari! {BA} facito ut facias. {SO} taceas. tu tuom facito: ego quod dixi hau mutabo. (1149-54)

{BA} Sister, there is something I wish to tell you in private.

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{SO} Of course, dear. {NI} Where are these girls off to? {BA} I’ll give you that old man over there, so that you get gently mollify him; I will approach this here irascible one. We can lure them in here. {SO} I’ll take care of my duty with grace: how hateful it is to caress death! {BA} See that you do it. {SO} Hush. You do your part: I will not go back on what I said.

The task of having physical relations with the old men is odious – Soror uses strong language with mortem amplexari – but Bacchis promises to partake of the unsavory deed equally. She speaks to her sister with imperatives, literally ordering her around, but she does not order her to do more than her fair share of unpleasant things. Bacchis is the leader of this social duo, but does not abuse her power. She earns the right to make decisions for both sisters unilaterally because her decisions are profitable and fair to both of them, and Soror may welcome the release from the responsibility of being decision-maker. Soror is not a parasite, though: she must work to earn the respect and friendship of her sister, too. When she pledges to uphold her assigned role, Bacchis expresses doubt, which causes Soror to become defensive (1154). She takes care to remind

Bacchis that her pledge is good. Just as Bacchis must maintain her leadership status by being fair, Soror must maintain her place in the friendship by following Bacchis’ lead, and she is a little insulted when Bacchis implies that she has forgotten her loyalty.

The two women have struck up a balance that works well for them, but they both feel the need to verbally confirm the leader/follower dynamic from time to time. As I mentioned before, their relationship resembles that of elder and younger sister, where the former looks out for the latter, who has grown up trusting that the elder knows best and will take care of them both. Their loyalty to each other stems from sisterly affection rather than class solidarity, but the fact that they are both confined by the financial needs of a meretrix means that they benefit from forming

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a business alliance. By working together, they help each other acquire customers, which helps them achieve their goals of staying together in Athens and supporting themselves over time.

C. Plautus’ Asinaria: Mothers and Daughters in the Trade

The Asinaria shows us the relationship between a mother and her daughter rather than two sisters, and the different dynamic demonstrates how an older woman can become dependent upon a daughter and protégé, who can still work as a courtesan.174 As with the sisters of the

Bacchides, the relationship between the mother and daughter of the Asinaria is a delicate balance of affection, trust, loyalty, and deference. The play follows a young man, Argyrippus, and his relationship with the meretrix Philaenium. Although she appears to be enamored with him, the exclusivity of their relationship is opposed by her mother, Cleareta, who always has the women’s financial needs in mind. This creates a great deal of tension between the mother and daughter:

Philaenium wants to obey her mother, but is upset that her mother appears not to care for her feelings; Cleareta wants her daughter to be happy, but feels a responsibility to put her daughter’s livelihood ahead of her emotional needs.

An angry rant of Argyrippus near the opening of the play puts the economic constraints of the meretrix life into perspective and highlights Cleareta’s concerns for her daughter.

Argyrippus states that Cleareta and Philaenium were destitute before they met him (141), demonstrating that the women depend on him and other customers for their very livelihood (he may, of course, be exaggerating to make his point). Cleareta is in a difficult position, because

174 According to the prologue, the source of the Asinaria is the Onagos of Demophilus, but many scholars believe that Plautus conflated two Greek originals. See especially Hough 1937; della Corte 1951; and Rambelli 1956. Some scholars argue that the play lacks artistic unity, which is blamed on contamination, especially in the final scene, in which the behavior of several characters seems to be at odds with the rest of the play. The arguments for and against unity are summarized in Bertini 1968: 48-56. Munari 1947 in particular presents a cogent argument for unity.

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when she succeeds in extracting money from customers, Argyrippus threatens her with violence and legal action:

ibo ego ad trisviros vostraque ibi nomina faxo erunt, capitis te perdam ego et filiam, perlecebrae, permities, adulescentum exitium. (131-33)

I will go to the police and put your names on record, and I will destroy you and your daughter, you enticements, you ruinations, you destroyers of young men!175

The appeal to the law suggests that Argyrippus had a contract with Philaenium – his monologue begins with an objection to having been thrown out of the girl’s house (128) – which he believes has been broken.176 He is angry with Cleareta because she drives a hard bargain, yet at the same time, he has demonstrated that she is dependent upon his payment for her very livelihood. She cannot both make a living and have a business model that is pleasing to him. Argyrippus is careful to distinguish the object of his rage, which hints at a disagreement between mother and daughter: he is mad at Cleareta, but not at Philaenium, because he believes that Philaenium is merely following her mother’s orders. He says to Cleareta: tuo facit iussu, tuo imperio paret: mater tu, eadem era es (“[Philaenium] does these things under your orders, she obeys your command: you are both mother and mistress,” 147). He highlights the dual role that Cleareta must play in her relationship with her daughter: as mother, she wants her daughter to be happy, but she also wants her daughter to be supported, which means she must often play the cruel era in order to do her job as a loving mater.

175 In these three lines, the object of Argyrippus’ invective switches from the singular (Cleareta) to the plural (Cleareta and Philaenium). Havet 1905: 94-97 feels that this attitude towards Philaenium is inconsistent with Argyrippus’ character, but Lowe 1992: 162 explains that his violent invective is a Plautine embellishment, who was not so much concerned with consistency (or fidelity to the Greek original) as with getting the audience to laugh at his use of the pessuma meretrix stereotype. 176 On the nature of contracts between hetairai and their customers, see Cohen 2006: 109-110.

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The combination of a mother who drives a hard bargain and a daughter who has genuine feelings for her lover is an effective business strategy: the affection that Argyrippus senses from

Philaenium keeps him coming back for more, but the strict rules of Cleareta assure that

Philaenium gets paid for her services. As Argyrippus notes, however, Philaenium is following her mother’s orders: Philaenium played no part in formulating such a business strategy and is not interested in whether or not Argyrippus can pay. Cleareta, however, is fully aware of

Argyrippus’ devotion and intends to exploit it to make sure that Philaenium is cared for. She acknowledges that Argyrippus is hooked when she tells him, fixus hic apud nos est animus tuos clavo Cupidinis (“Your heart is fixed to us by the nail of Cupid,” 156). Perhaps if Philaenium treated him as coldly as her mother, he would lose interest in her, but instead her behavior keeps him enamored. Cleareta makes decisions that are unpleasant for the lovers and commands her daughter to abide by them. Argyrippus does not blame Philaenium for the unpleasantness that he suffers, but instead feels that they are both victims of Cleareta’s tyranny. He continues to desire the company of the girl, but he cannot have it without paying. In this way, Cleareta protects the financial interests of her daughter (and herself) by ensuring income.

Perhaps from the wisdom of old age, Cleareta is open about her financial priorities for her family. She knows what she and her daughter need, and she does not hesitate to state it directly.

In discussions with Argyrippus, Cleareta tells him several times in several ways that he cannot see Philaenium if he cannot pay:

solus ductato, si semper solus quae poscam dabis; semper tibi promissum habeto hac lege, dum superes datis. (165-66)

You can take her for yourself alone, as long as you alone can always give what I demand. You can always be sure of this creed, as long as you give the best gifts.

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Their conversation continues on the same theme, and Cleareta repeats this basic rule (237-42,

188-97). Fantham says that the courtesans of Plautus’ Truculentus “have only one enduring principle: to take without giving; the lover-customer who still has something to give is welcome, while he who has given his all is discarded as dead and empty of promise.”177 Cleareta is keenly aware that her position as a retired meretrix and procuress for Philaenium leaves no room for love or pity towards the customers. She does not mince words with Argyrippus when she tells him that she is only acting in accordance with her officium:

{AR} male agis mecum. {CL} quid me accusas, si facio officium meum? (173)

{AR} You are treating me badly. {CL} Why do you accuse me, when I am only doing my job?

She is open and honest with Argyrippus about her motivations, which makes her the enemy in his eyes, but her blunt and relentless behavior ensures that the women will get paid for

Philaenium’s services.

Philaenium, meanwhile, whether by her mother’s design, her natural personality, or a combination of both, seems to Argyrippus to be a worthy object of his affection, and he does not hold her responsible for the difficulties that he is encountering. She wants to continue seeing

Argyrippus, although her mother has expressly forbidden it. Cleareta tells her:

quid ais tu, quam ego unam vidi mulierem audacissumam? quotiens te votui Argyrippum filium Demaeneti compellare aut contrectare, conloquive aut contui? quid dedit? quid iussit ad nos deportari? an tu tibi verba blanda esse aurum rere, dicta docta pro datis? (521-25)

What are you saying, you the most audacious woman I have ever seen? How many times have I forbidden you to call upon or get together with or talk to or be in eyesight of Argyrippus, the son of Demaenetus? What has he given us? What has he ordered to be brought to us? Or do you think that kind words are equal to gold, that fancy talk is a substitute for gifts?

177 Fantham 2002: 294.

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Since this conversation is between Philaenium and her mother, we have reasonable assurance that it represents Philaenium’s true feelings towards Argyrippus.178 Although it may be to her benefit to deceive Argyrippus, to share this information with her mother only causes friction and so is likely true. When she next meets with Argyrippus, her inner struggle between affection for her lover and obedience to her mother is clear:

{AR} cur me retentas? {PH} quia tui amans abeuntis egeo. {AR} vale, . {PH} aliquanto amplius valerem, si hic maneres. {AR} salve. {PH} salvere me iubes, quoi tu abiens offers morbum. {AR} mater supremam mihi tua dixit, domum ire iussit. {PH} acerbum funus filiae faciet, si te carendum est. (591-95)

{AR} Why do you hold me back? {PH} Because I love you, and I need you, even as you’re leaving. {AR} Farewell. {PH} I would fare much better if you stayed here. {AR} Be well! {PH} You bid me be well, but your departure makes me sick. {AR} Your mother said that this was my last hour: she ordered me to go home. {PH} She will make a bitter funeral of her daughter, if I have to live without you.

Philaenium shows extreme distress at the idea of being separated from Argyrippus, and we take her distress to be genuine in light of her earlier conversation with her mother. She strongly desires to continue her relationship with her lover despite the fact that he cannot pay. Her mother believes that she fails to appreciate her economic situation and is acting inappropriately for a businesswoman:

178 In the denouement, Philaenium is seen giving her attentions to Argyrippus’ father, Demaenetus (829-30). For many scholars, this creates a problem of artistic unity, casting doubt on the exclusivity of Philaenium’s affection for Argyrippus. The scene is widely accepted to be the result of contamination and Plautine innovation, as argued by Hough 1937: 22-23, 34. Konstan 1978: 216-18 argues that Plautus altered this scene from Demophilus’ Onagos because he wanted to introduce another comic trope, that of the rival lover. Likewise, Lowe 1992: 171-73 argues that Plautus altered this scene because he wanted to end the play with a festive drinking party. Both scholars demonstrate that the change in Philaenium’s character serves Plautus’ needs in the final scene only, and does not mean that her affection for Argyrippus earlier in the play is not genuine.

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ultro amas, ultro expetessis, ultro ad te accersi iubes. illos qui dant, eos derides; qui deludunt deperis. an te id exspectare oportet, si quis promittat tibi te facturum divitem, si moriatur mater sua? ecastor [nobis] periclum magnum et familiae portenditur, dum eius exspectamus mortem, ne nos moriamur fame. (526-31)

You yourself actively love him, you yourself long for him deeply, you yourself have him summoned to you. Those who give gifts, you shun them; the ones who delude you, those are the ones you fall hopelessly in love with! Can you really afford to wait for it, if someone promises that he will give you riches if his mother dies? By Castor, a great danger threatens us and our household, while we wait for her to die, that we ourselves might die of starvation!

The behavior that Cleareta describes is more appropriate for an amator than a meretrix:

Philaenium actively pursues and desires Argyrippus, even summons him to her. What is more, however, is that she does this without pay and while rejecting paying customers. Cleareta tries to explain that a meretrix does not have the luxury of turning down paying customers or offering her services for free. It may be strategically advantageous for a citizen girl to be picky regarding proposals from men, because a good choice of husband makes the difference for her long-term stability. Perhaps a citizen girl should wait for a suitor who promises her riches once his mother dies, especially if she has no good options in the meantime. A meretrix, however, can never have the long-term security of a marriage: there is absolutely no benefit to her in waiting for a better offer. Unlike a citizen, a meretrix can and should accept the advances of multiple suitors because the only way she can achieve financial security is to build up savings. A quote from the Lena of the Cistellaria sums up this point rather nicely:

matronae magis conducibilest istuc, mea Selenium unum amare et cum eo aetatem exigere quoi nuptast semel. verum enim meretrix fortunati est oppidi simillima: non potest suam rem optinere sola sine multis viris. (Cist. 78-81)

This strategy is more profitable for a matrona, my Selenium, to love just one man and spend your life with him once you’ve married him. But a meretrix is very much like a prosperous town: it is not possible for her to secure her fortune without many men.

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The way that a courtesan must act is dictated by her financial need, but Philaenium does not play the part. Her behavior is not profitable, but her mother’s mercenary behavior turns Philaenium’s un-meretrix-like behavior into profit.

Like many children, Philaenium feels obliged to abide by her mother’s orders, but experiences great resentment when she does not agree with them. Like many parents, Cleareta struggles to assert her authority over an independently minded child. Their conflict is highlighted by Cleareta’s exasperated comment to Philaenium:

nequeon ego ted interdictis facere mansuestem meis? an ita tu es animata, ut qui expers matris imperio sies? (505-6)

Have I no power to make you compliant with my commands? Or are you so determined to make yourself out of reach of my authority?179

From Cleareta’s perspective, Philaenium is ignoring her authority, but Philaenium’s perspective is the opposite: it is precisely because she respects her mother’s authority that she is experiencing such inner distress. Philaenium tries to reason with her mother rather than go behind her back.

She explains that it would be an affront to the goddess Piety to turn Argyrippus away (507-8), but her mother counters that it is an affront to the goddess to disobey one’s mother (509). Each tries to use reason to convince the other that her viewpoint is correct: they would rather come to an agreement than let the issue come between them. Philaenium admits that the extent of her rebellion is limited:

{CL} ego te volui castigare, tu mi accusatrix ades. {PH} neque edepol te accuso neque id me facere fas existimo. verum ego meas queror fortunas, cum illo quem amo prohibeor. (513-15)

{CL} I merely wish to correct your behavior, but you have become my accuser.

179 Hough 1937: 31 concludes that this scene (ll. 505-44) was imported by Plautus from another unnamed play, reflecting a conscious decision to show an aspect of the mother-daughter relationship that was not present in the Demophilus play.

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{PH} By Pollux I am not accusing your nor do I even think it right for me to do so. But I am lamenting my misfortune, since I am being kept from the one I love.

Philaenium is adamant that she is not willing to accuse (accuso) her mother, which would apparently mean a complete rejection of her authority. Rather, Philaenium says that she is merely trying to voice her complaints (queror). She thinks her mother’s decision to keep her away from

Argyrippus is cruel and wrong, but she appears to be abiding by that decision, since she says, “I am being kept from the one I love,” not “You are trying to keep me from the one I love (but I will see him anyway).”

Konstan has observed that the above scene is a parody of the comic trope of a young lover experiencing tension with a parental blocking figure, with significant alterations: in this scene, the young lover is not a citizen male but a female prostitute.180 The more interesting alteration, however, is that the blocking figure is not making objections on the basis of social norms and citizen propriety: Cleareta does not object to the sexual encounters of her daughter on moral grounds, only on the grounds that this particular relationship is not profiting them.

Konstan says,

Philaenium is for her mother no more than an instrument of her avarice. To cloak this exploitation in the guise of filial virtue is an ironic travesty of the moral basis of relations in the family. The entire scene is a comic exposé of the materialistic abuse of conventional values, from Cleareta’s opening demand for reverence to Philaenium’s closing words: “Mother, you have raised an obedient daughter.”

I have no doubt that Plautus intended the scene as the irreverent parody that Konstan describes, but Konstan here falls into the “greedy whore” trap. One can find ample quotes within the text to support the claim that Cleareta is fixated on cash, but the word “avarice” implies that she seeks more than she needs, that she loves cash for the sake of cash itself. Gestri, however, has carefully analyzed Cleareta’s exchange with Argyrippus (153-248) and shown that most of her lines

180 Konstan 1978: 220.

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indicate she seeks money as part of her business and for the sake of her livelihood (177, 186,

188, 198-201, 215-18). In only a few lines is she characterized as cold-hearted (153-55, 173-75).

Gestri concludes that Plautus has taken a reasonable lena from the Onagos and made her more rapacious.181 As I hope I have shown, however, there is no indication that Cleareta seeks more money than she needs to survive, and no indication that she is thinking of her own survival more than Philaenium’s. Her financial concerns are apparent from her actions: she has forbidden

Philaenium to see Argyrippus without pay because she understands that they cannot afford to give away free services, and she lectures Philaenium on the meretrix business model (521-31, quoted above), explaining that she must end her relationship with Argyrippus. A closer look at her interactions with Philaenium shows that Cleareta is not acting out of greed: she is genuinely looking out for her family by making sure that she and Philaenium have enough money on which to live. Their desperation is alluded to when Philaenium begs her mother to deny her food instead of her lover: patiar, si cibo carere me iubes, mater mea (“I would do it, if you ordered me to go without food, mother mine!” 535). I do not know if Plautus intended the irony (he certainly intended the melodrama), but the reader should now understand that this is precisely the argument that Cleareta is trying to make: Philaenium can either see her boyfriend or eat, but not both. If she does not shun the freeloading Argyrippus for paying customers, they will not have enough money to put food on the table. Philaenium, of course, does not genuinely believe that the risk of continuing to see Argyrippus is as great as her mother claims. Cleareta understands the need, however, and is willing to emotionally wound her daughter and forego the chance at an amicable relationship with her if it keeps her daughter alive.

181 Gestri 1940.

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In asking her mother for a different order (death instead of break-up), one that seems more palatable to a lovesick teenager, Philaenium demonstrates that she wants to follow her mother’s orders. Whether she feels that she has to, or she trusts that somehow her mother knows best, she feels a great pull in the direction of obedience. Meanwhile, although it is likely that

Philaenium will follow her mother’s orders in the end, Cleareta still hopes to convince

Philaenium to do this willingly. She explains the reasons behind her decision: em, | meum caput contemples, si quidem ex re consultas tua (“Oh, just look at my head, if indeed you have any regard for your own good,” 537-38). The reference to grey hair is intended to remind Philaenium that she, too, will one day be old, too old to solicit paying customers. It also calls attention to the fact that Cleareta is now too old to make money and so depends on Philaenium’s cooperation for her own survival. With one last plea, Philaenium asks to be allowed to love for loves’ sake: sine me amare unum Argyrippum animi caussa, quem volo (“Allow me to love Argyrippus alone, for the sake of my heart, the man whom I desire,” 542). Her mother, however, refuses to back down.

As we have come to expect, Philaenium ultimately decides to obey her mother: audientem dicto, mater, produxisti filiam (“You have brought up a daughter that heeds your commands, mother,”

544). Despite all of her objections, it was never her intention to disobey; her hope was to persuade her mother to change her position so that she could both keep her boyfriend and remain loyal to her mother. When she was unsuccessful, Philaenium chose her mother over her lover.

She abides by Cleareta’s wishes either because she trusts her judgment, even though it seems wrong in this particular instance, or because her emotional attachment to her mother is too strong to risk damaging their relationship. She is more willing to risk damaging her relationship with

Argyrippus.

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The mother-daughter dynamic adds a level of interdependency and emotional attachment not seen in the Bacchides. Cleareta cannot live without Philaenium’s financial support.

Philaenium cannot yet make it on her own: she shows herself to be still a child who is emotionally and practically dependent upon a parent. Meanwhile, their attachment to each other is strong enough that both put great effort into avoiding conflict, each striving to come to an agreement and make the other see her side. Cleareta wants her daughter to understand that she only has her best interests at heart; Phileanium wants her mother to understand the depth of her feelings for Argyrippus and the importance of her happiness. Neither wants to hurt the other, but each understands that she is hurting the other and tries to rectify that.

D. Plautus’ Cistellaria: Friendship between Courtesans

There is a plethora of courtesans in the Cistellaria, a play based on the Synaristosai of

Menander and set in Sicyon, giving us several relationships worthy of study.182 In my analysis of this play, I will examine the bonds of friendship exclusive of family ties and investigate how the status of pseudo-courtesan complicates the mother-daughter paradigm discussed in the Asinaria.

In the Cistellaria, Syra and Melaenis, who have a long-standing friendship, worked as meretrices in their younger years (38-39) and now depend on their daughters for income. Syra acts as lena for her daughter Gymnasium, stating that she “marries” (nubat, 43) Gymnasium off every night.

Melaenis has allowed her adopted daughter, Selenium, to cohabit with her first and only lover,

Alcesimarchus, who is madly in love with Selenium and has promised to marry her.

182 The recent volume of collected papers, Studien zu Plautus’ Cistellaria (Hartkamp and Hurka 2004), is an invaluable contribution to the study of this play. The papers cover a wide variety of topics, including interpretation, meter, reception, dating, and speech, but the papers of the most relevance to my dissertation can be found in the section on “Frauen:” Fantham 2004, Gilula 2004, Hartkamp 2004, Slater 2004, and Auhagen 2004.

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Selenium is a pseudo-courtesan, that is, a citizen by birth who was raised as a courtesan.

She is the product of a rape perpetrated by Demipho against the unmarried Phanostrata, both citizens of Sicyon. Demipho, aware of his crime, fled to Lemnos where he took a Lemnian wife and had a daughter. Meanwhile, Phanostrata abandoned her baby, which was then picked up by the courtesan Syra, who gave it to her friend Melaenis to raise. After the death of his Lemnian wife, Demipho returned to Sicyon, married Phanostrata, and betrothed his Lemnian daughter to

Alcesimarchus. This creates a problem for our courtesan women: upon hearing this news,

Melaenis believes Alcesimarchus has broken his promise of marriage, and she calls Selenium back home, no doubt to rethink her future as marriage was no longer an option.183 Meanwhile,

Phanostrata explains to Demipho that they had a daughter who was abandoned years ago, but that her slave saw a woman (whom the audience knows to be Syra) pick up the baby. Demipho sends this same slave, Lampadio, to find the woman he saw years ago so that Demipho and

Phanostrata might be reunited with their daughter. With this background, I turn to my analysis. i. Solidarity by ordo

In a play with an unusually high number of courtesans, it is appropriate that Syra gives a speech exhorting solidarity among their ordo. Her speech takes place in the opening scene and may be taken as an introduction to the bonds that tie non-related courtesans together. Syra is a bit drunk, our cue that she is speaking from the heart, when she says:

decet pol, mea Selenium, hunc esse ordinem benevolentis inter se beneque amicitia utier, ubi istas videas summo genere gnatas, summatis matronas, ut amicitiam colunt atque ut eam iunctam bene habent inter se. si idem istuc nos faciamus, si [idem] imitemur, ita tamen vix vivimus cum invidia summa. suarum opum nos volunt esse indigentis. (22-28)

183 Gilula 2004: 245. If Selenium cannot marry the one and only man she has had sexual relations with, then she cannot marry anyone and will likely have to be a meretrix indefinitely.

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By Pollux, my Selenium, those of our situation (ordo) should be good to each other and use our friendship well, when you see those women born of the highest stock, the noblest matrons, how they cultivate friendships in order to create strong ties among themselves. If we were to do the same thing, if we were to imitate them, still we scarcely live without incurring the greatest hatred. They want us to be dependent upon their wealth. …

Her tirade against the haughtiness of the matronae continues through line 41. Syra’s sense of camaraderie with her fellow courtesans is heightened by the presence of a common enemy. She says they must form close relationships precisely because wealthy matronae have a tightly knit community, which they used to keep lower-class women in a dependent position. Syra’s speech describes the cause of this class conflict: matronae unite to oppress meretrices because of the perceived threat to their marital relations (36-37),184 therefore meretrices must stick together in the face of this opposition. Their solidarity is necessary for their survival: with an organized group attempting to block their financial endeavors, cooperation among sex-workers is necessary in order to make a living.

Syra’s use of the term hic ordo is strange and unparalleled, and it would be beneficial to know whether it is a translation of a Greek original or a Plautine interpolation. The word is used only one other time in Plautus, when a wealthy citizen man states that a poor citizen man is not in his ordo (Aul. 232), indicating a distinction in money, not citizenship. It is possible that Syra uses it pretentiously, in order to elevate women of her social status to an official ordo – the established property classes for Roman male citizens – thereby giving such women a more legitimate place in society. The qualities that bind Syra’s ordo seem to be a mixture of economic

184 Fantham 2004: 233 suggests, and I do not disagree, that Syra’s speech creates false expectations for the behavior of the women in the play: it portrays matronae as arrogant women who work against all meretrices, but we later discover Phanostrata to be cooperative and respectful towards Melaenis. Such false expectations, and the suspense that they create, are common plot devices in comedy: in Terence’s Hecyra, the mother-in-law defies the expectation that she will mistreat her daughter-in-law, and his Eunuch, the courtesan Thais defies men’s expectations that she be greedy and dishonest.

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and social status. Syra says that she and Melaenis are libertinae (38), a class that did not exist in

Menandrian Athens but in Plautine Rome consisted of freed slaves. Women of such social status rarely achieve economic success and, in their destitution, might turn to prostitution.185 Syra says that the two became meretrices after gaining their freedom (38), but in their old age they no longer ply the trade themselves. Thus meretrix is a profession that one can enter and leave, but libertinae remains a social status throughout. Syra’s daughter, Gymnasium, has relations with paying customers nightly, making her a meretrix by definition. Selenium, however, says that she has adopted certain behaviors specifically so that she will not be called meretrix (83): she has only had sex with one man, with whom she lives. Thus out of these four women, only one can truly be called a meretrix now. Fantham concludes:

There may be no social reality behind the formalization of association in noster ordo (23, 33) but there is surely some economic reality behind the old woman’s indignation in Cist. 22-37 against the contrast in status, comfort and security, of wealthy Roman wives.186

Fantham’s definition of ordo in this passage is narrower than that of Konstan, who says that the group includes all “professional courtesans, meretrices in Latin or hetairai in Greek, who earned their livelihood by the commerce of their bodies.”187 Fantham is correct, I think, to exclude wealthy courtesans, since Syra’s ordo is bound together by financial destitution and powerlessness. They are of “marginal status,” an imprecise label that is evidenced by the way people react to a group socially, which is also what creates that group’s marginal status: “The precise function of social reaction is linked to control, which is designed to keep the marginal on

185 McGinn 2004: 61. 186 Fantham 2004: 237. 187 Konstan 1983: 108.

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the margin.”188 What Syra, Melaenis, Gymnasium, and Selenium have in common, then, is the humiliating way in which they are treated by mainstream society. ii. Friendship between two young courtesans: Gymnasium and Selenium

Syra’s speech takes the tone of a business contract, exhorting colleagues to look out for each other financially, but their friendship is personal, not just professional. Selenium praises the longevity and intimacy of her friendship with Gymnasium and Syra:

quom ego antehac te amavi et mi amicam esse crevi, mea Gymnasium, et matrem tuam, tum id mihi hodie aperuistis, tu atque haec: soror si mea esses, qui magis potueris mi honorem ire habitum, nescio, nisi, ut meus est animus, fieri non posse arbitror; ita omnibus relictis rebus mihi frequentem operam dedistis. eo ego vos amo et eo a me magnam iniistis gratiam. (1-7)

While I have always loved you and considered you to be my friend, dear Gymnasium, both you and your mother, today you have proved it to me, both of you: if you were my sister, I do not know how you could have shown me more esteem, unless – no, my mind is made up, I do not think it is possible; you dropped everything and gave me such unfailing attention. I love you for it and you have earned great thanks from me for it.

She thinks of them as family, and it is important to her, that they treat her with such high regard.

Perhaps she waxes eloquent about the importance of friendship because she knows that she needs to utilize that friendship soon, when she seeks a sympathetic ear regarding her recent breakup.

Syra interrupts, however, with the speech on solidarity quoted above, arguing the financial necessity of multiple partners. This causes Selenium great distress, which her good friend

Gymnasium notices and tries to alleviate: eloquere utrumque nobis | et quid tibi est et quid velis nostram operam, ut nos sciamus (“Explain to us both what the trouble is and how you wish us to help, so that we may understand,” 56-57). Gymnasium offers the services of a friend: a sympathetic ear and tangible assistance in solving the problem. She also offers her empathy

188 McGinn 1998: 15.

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when she says that Selenium’s tears elicit her own: noli, obsecro, lacrumis tuis mi exercitum imperare (“Do not, I beg you, get all worked up and make me cry, too,” 59).189 As promised,

Gymnasium patiently listens to Selenium’s troubles, offering encouragement at the proper moments: when Selenium explains that she is in love, Gymnasium offers sympathy (perfidiosus est Amor, “Love is faithless,” 72); when Selenium is dejected, Gymnasium bids her to cheer up

(bono animo es, erit isti morbo melius, “Be of good cheer, this sickness of yours will get better,”

73); when Selenium says she needs a doctor, Gymnasium assures her that one will come (75).

Selenium explains that her mother permitted her to take up residence with Alcesimarchus, her first and only lover, in an apartment. He had promised to marry her, but now his father is forcing him to marry another.190 With this she fulfills the first part of Gymnasium’s request, to explain her distress.

Next, Selenium addresses the second part of her friend’s request by telling how

Gymnasium can help. Selenium says that her mother, who believes the affair should be ended, has called her home for three days. She requires a favor, namely, that Gymnasium look after her apartment in her absence. Syra understands that to grant this favor would require the loss of three days’ wages for Gymnasium and herself. To fulfill Gymnasium’s promise, the offer of

189 Cf. Casina 180-81, wherein Myrrhina tells her friend Cleostrata, nam quod tibi est aegre, idem mist dividiae (“For anything that troubles you troubles me, too”), and Stichus 20-21, wherein Panegyris comforts her crying sister, ne lacruma, soror, neu tuo id animo | fac quod tibi tuos pater facere minatur (“Don’t cry, sister, and do not yourself create the mental anguish that your father threatens to create”). 190 As the assumed daughter of Melaenis and a foreign man, Selenium’s legal eligibility for marriage is unclear. In Athens, the Periclean Marriage Law of 451/50 states that both parents must be citizens in order for a child to be a citizen and thus eligible for marriage, but this play is set in Sicyon. Fantham 1975: 58-59 argues that the audience, unfamiliar with foreign laws, would assume she was eligible by Sicyonian law. Brown 2005: 57 notes that, since Alcesimarchus’ father originally betrothed him to a Lemnian girl, the citizenship of the bride must not matter. Brown’s article is dedicated to the issue of the Sicyonian marriage law and treats this issue comprehensively.

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assistance, Syra must choose between financial necessities and her duty to a friend and fellow ordo-member, the group whose solidarity she demanded so vehemently just moments before. As we would expect in light of that speech, Syra consents (106), and Selenium affirms that she has acted accordingly for a friend: facis benigne et amice (“That’s very nice and friendly of you,”

107). Although this decision will cost Syra now, she knows that cooperation among the four women is vital to their long-term survival. Moreover, the bonds of affection can be a strong motivating factor in addition to or in spite of financial considerations. iii. Friendship between two retired courtesans: Syra and Melaenis

The friendship between Syra and Melaenis is put to the test as Lampadio, Demipho’s slave, comes nearer to discovering what happened to the baby that he abandoned on behalf of his mistress seventeen years ago. In the process, both Syra and Melaenis face difficult decisions about their relationships with their respective daughters. Much of the story is related by

Lampadio, who recognized Syra as the woman who picked up the abandoned baby. In a monologue, Syra informs the audience that she gave this baby to her friend Melaenis as a donum

(133) because Melaenis had been “begging” for one for a long time:

ubi mihi potestas primum evenit, ilico feci eiius ei quod me oravit copiam. (137-38)

Just as soon as it was within my power, immediately I did what she had begged of me.

She takes care to show how great a favor she has done for her friend and how excited she is to have been able to fulfill her friend’s request. Words of immediacy (ubi … primum and ilico) show that she wasted no time in handing over the donum that she knew would make her friend happy, and the exaggerated (or perhaps accurate) oravit indicates that, in Syra’s eyes, this was a gift that her friend wanted very badly indeed. Syra remarks with pride that she has saved her friend from the labor pains and midwifery fees that other women have to endure (141-42). After

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relating the story, including the fact that Melaenis used the baby to extract money from the foreign lover, Syra informs the audience that the whole affair is a secret between the two women:

id duae nos solae scimus, ego quae illi dedi et illa quae a me accepit – praeter vos quidem. (145-46)

The two of us alone are aware of this [deceit], I who gave her [the baby] and she who received it from me – except of course you all.

Secrets are of the utmost importance in friendships. In keeping a secret for Melaenis, Syra attains the status of confidant: having such damaging information puts her in a position of power because she has the means to cause Melaenis social harm, but protecting that information makes her a trusted friend.191 Syra reminds the audience of these facts when she says, ending her monologue:

haec sic res gesta est. si quid usus venerit, meminisse ego hanc rem vos volo. ego abeo domum. (147-48)

That is my story. If the occasion arises, I want you to remember this story. Now I’m going home.

Why does she want the audience to remember the story? On what occasion will it be significant?

Although the character cannot know what events are to come, the playwright does. The foreshadowing no doubt refers to the fact that the baby’s true identity will play a central role as the plot unfolds. Plautus is also foreshadowing something less obvious: Syra asks the audience to witness her loyalty as a friend, because that loyalty is about to be questioned.

191 Tannen 1990: 104 observes that secrets function this way in modern American culture: “For most women, getting together and telling about their feelings and what is happening in their lives is at the heart of friendship. Having someone to tell your secrets to means you are not alone in the world. But telling secrets is not an endeavor without risks. Someone who knows your secrets has power over you: She can tell your secrets to others and create trouble for you. This is the source of the negative image of gossip.”

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iv. When friendship is at odds with motherhood

The problems begin when Melaenis overhears Lampadio’s conversation with his mistress, Phanostrata, regarding the fate of Phanostrata’s abandoned baby (Selenium). He reports that he saw a woman (Syra) and her daughter (Gymnasium) coming out of the house next door, and he recognized that woman as the one who picked up the baby from the hippodrome (546-

51). Melaenis immediately becomes nervous, afraid that the truth will soon come out (551-53), but the pressure is actually on Syra for now. Lampadio apparently mistook Gymnasium for the suppositious child and tried to woo her away from Syra with the promise of a citizen parent and a great dowry (556-63). Syra held onto to Melaenis’ secret as long as possible, for it was not until

Gymnasium was on the verge of being persuaded that Syra broke down and begged her to stay.

Lampadio reports:

iam perducebam illam ad me suadela mea: anus ei amplexa est genua plorans, obsecrans ne deserat se: eam suam esse filiam, seque eam peperisse sancte adiurabat mihi. “istanc quam quaeris” inquit “ego amicae meae dedi, quae educaret eam pro filiola sua; et vivit” inquit. “ubi ea est?” inquam extempulo. (566-72)

As soon as I began to win the girl over with my persuasions, the old woman threw her arms around the girl’s knees, pleading, begging the girl not to desert her: she swore a sacred oath to me that it was her own daughter and that she had given birth to her herself. “The one whom you seek,” she said, “I gave her to a friend of mine, to raise as her own little daughter; and she is still alive,” she said. “Where is she?” I asked immediately.

Syra was willing to protect her friend’s secret only until her relationship with her own daughter was threatened, at which point Syra confessed that she gave the baby to a friend. She even volunteered the information that this woman is still alive (et vivit 572), no longer reluctant to give information but doling it out before it is even requested. The threat to her own happiness has made Syra suddenly prioritize her own needs, looking out for herself first and Melaenis only to the extent that she can do so without hurting her own family. Melaenis, listening in on the report,

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picks up on Syra’s wavering loyalty and begins to worry (573). Her fears are realized when

Lampadio says he asked Syra for the name of the woman to whom she gave the baby, and Syra confessed meretrici Melaenidi (575). Melaenis despairs, meum elucutust nomen, interii

! (“She divulged my name! I’m absolutely finished!” 576).

To Melaenis’ relief, Syra did not betray her completely: when Lampadio asked to be taken to this Melaenis, Syra replied that she no longer lives in the area (577-79). Although under pressure, Syra made a spur of the moment decision to protect her friend. It is clear to her that

Lampadio no longer believes Gymnasium is the girl he seeks; she has succeeded in directing his attention elsewhere. No longer in danger of losing her own daughter, she can turn her attentions back to protecting Melaenis. She has not given Lampadio enough information that he can find

Melaenis and cause her to lose her daughter. Melaenis recognizes that her friend has spared her and expresses her relief by saying, obsipat aquolam (“A dash of cold water!” 579-80). Lampadio reports that he persisted, demanding to be taken abroad to wherever Melaenis is (580). In his narrative, it appears that Syra had a difficult time keeping the secret in the face of constant verbal assault (destiti instare) and physical threats (periisti) from Lampadio:192

Quo avecta est, eo sequemur. sicine agis nugas? periisti hercle, *** *** hoc longe destiti instare, usque adeo donec se adiurat anus iam mihi monstrare. (580-84)

“Wherever she went, we will follow her,” [I said]. “Are you really trying this nonsense? You’re finished, by Hercules, if you don’t ***.” By Hercules, I did not stop harassing her until she swore that she would point out the woman to me soon.

192 Lampadio, a slave, wants to convince his mistress that he did his job, and he undoubtedly makes himself out to be a more formidable person than he actually is. In order to avoid punishment, however, he actually has to do his job, and so had strong motivation to pursue Syra as diligently as he claims.

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Syra suffers for her loyalty to her friend, but still she keeps her secret. She compromises by telling Lampadio she’ll take him “soon” (iam), which placates him for the moment but also protects Melaenis for a little while longer. Lampadio reports that Syra wants to talk to a friend

“who shares an interest in the matter” first (commune quacum id esset sibi negotium, 587).

Perhaps Syra intends to give Melaenis a warning so that she can get out of town before

Lampadio finds her. Aside from her initial confession of Melaenis’ name, Syra appears to be doing all that she can to protect Melaenis and spare her the anguish that Syra herself experienced when Lampadio came for Gymnasium. Melaenis, however, is pessimistic:

me indicabit, et suas ad meas miserias alias faciet consciam.193 (588-90)

She’ll rat me out, and join her troubles to mine, the evil woman, and she’ll make Selenium aware of my deception.

Perhaps because Melaenis stands to lose so much she feels she cannot afford naïve optimism.

She cannot think of a good reason why her friend would betray her, so she creates a petty motive for Syra’s malice: misery loves company (ad meas miserias alias adiunget). Although her friend is trying hard to protect her, Melaenis’ fear gets the best of her, giving her a suspicious mind.

Syra later proves her loyalty when she takes her entire story back, as reported by Lampadio to

Phanostrata: omnia infitiatur iam, quae dudum confessa est mihi (“Now she is denying everything that she confessed to me earlier,” 661), but Melaenis does not know the future. v. Mother and daughter: Melaenis and Selenium

Melaenis now struggles with the same problem that Syra originally faced, the possibility of losing her daughter. She faces a second, perhaps more serious problem, which is that her

193 Lindsay 1903 has ad meas miserias +alias faciem consciam+ for lines 589-90. I have reproduced the text of Schoell, which I prefer, from Lindsay’s ap. crit.

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daughter may soon know she has been lied to about one of the most intimate aspects of her life: where she came from. Recall that Melaenis was worried that her daughter would discover her fraus (590): she fears that exposing years of deceit will be devastating for their relationship. She takes charge of the situation by gathering as much information as possible, questioning

Lampadio about Selenium’s birth parents in such a way that she does not disclose her own relationship to Selenium (597-625). She learns that Selenium’s birth father is the same Demipho that has recently betrothed his Lemnian daughter to Alcesimarchus, Selenium’s lover (600-2).

Once she has been informed of these details, she appears to be contemplating something:

Lampadio asks her, quid nunc supina susum caelum conspicis (“Now why are you staring up at the sky with your head bent backwards?” 622). She responds by ending the conversation and ushering him away, saying nunc intellexi (“I understand now,” 624). For whatever reason, his story appears to have settled things for her. While staring at the sky, she seems to have processed the information and decided what to do. After Lampadio leaves, she announces her plan to the audience:

nunc mihi bonae necessumst esse ingratiis, quamquam esse nolo. rem palam esse intellego: nunc egomet potius hanc inibo gratiam ab illis quam illaec me indicet. ibo domum, atque ad parentes redducam Selenium. (626-30)

Now I must be a good woman, grudgingly, although I do not wish it. I understand that the matter is out in the open: now I, not [Syra], will earn their good favor, rather than let her point me out to them. I will go home and take Selenium to her parents.

Her decision may seem abrupt, given how desperately she was trying to keep this secret, but there are several hints about her motivations. She believes full disclosure is now imminent (rem palam esse), which changes things. In light of this fact, she decides to be bona. Her use of necessumst, however, shows that she believes this action is the inevitable result of events. She

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emphasizes her lack of control over the situation by claiming that that she will be bona although she is unwilling. By claiming it is an involuntary choice, she removes from herself the responsibility for making a difficult decision. One does not make such an attempt at justification if truly there is no choice, no temptation to hide from the truth. The meaning of bona is difficult to pin down, but it is clear from what follows that the bona thing to do is to return Selenium to her parents. From this knowledge, perhaps we can interpret bona to mean revealing the truth and taking responsibility for one’s actions, in the same way that someone who suffers from serious guilt feels relief when she finally confesses her crime. Melaenis is relieved that her story has finally come out and her involvement is about to be discovered. For years she has dealt with the emotional toil of her deceit, but could not bring herself to admit everything when it would only cause pain to herself and possibly her daughter. Now she tells herself that someone else has forced her hand, and it brings her consolation to know that, in the end, she herself was not responsible for causing the truth to come out, with all of the pain and suffering that potentially follows. Getting credit for the reunion appears to be an afterthought: she has decided to be bona, and takes consolation in the fact that at least this decision will bring her some good favor

(gratiam).

When Melaenis tells her daughter the whole story, she conveys a sense of moral obligation, indicating that her decision was made in her daughter’s best interest:

rem elocuta sum tibi omnem; sequeren, mea Selenium, ut eorum quoiam esse oportet te sis potius quam mea? quamquam invita te carebo, animum ego inducam tamen ut illud quam tuam in rem bene conducat consulam. (631-34)

I explained the entire matter to you. Will you follow me, my Selenium, so that you may be theirs, the ones whom you ought to be with, rather than mine. Although I give you up unwillingly, nevertheless I will resolve to operate in such a way that this matter turns out well less for me than for you.

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She has moved from necessumst (it is the natural outcome), to oportet: it is the right thing to do.

Selenium belongs with her birth parents. It is not just objectively right, but it will also benefit

Selenium. Despite the textual difficulties in line 634, the meaning is clear: Melaenis is willing to suffer personally because she knows this decision is in Selenium’s best interest. Since she does not specify how this will help her daughter, we must speculate based on what information she acquired before making her decision. Firstly, while listening to Lampadio’s story of how he tried to woo Gymnasium, Melaenis learned that Demipho plans to offer his birth daughter a very comfortable living and a considerable dowry:

{LAMPADIO to Gymnasium} ego te redduco et voco ad ditias, ubi tu locere in luculentam familiam, unde tibi talenta magna viginti pater det dotis; (559-62)

I am bringing you back and summoning you to the greatest riches, where you will be placed into a distinguished family, from which your father plans to give you a magnificent dowry of twenty talents.

Lampadio offered an attractive alternative to prostitution (562-63), and his argument was enough to at least tempt Gymnasium. It would have been equally attractive to Selenium, and a life that

Melaenis would desire for her daughter. Konstan feels that this is the driving force behind

Melaenis’ decision to return Selenium to her birth parents. Not only can Demipho provide

Selenium with more financial security, Melaenis also understands that “Demipho’s child will be immune to the kind of arbitrary rejection that the daughter of Melaenis must fear.”194 The second piece of information that Melaenis acquired before making her decision is that Selenium’s father,

Demipho, is the same Demipho who betrothed his Lemnian daughter to Alcesimarchus (599-

602). In her conversation with Lampadio, Melaenis made a special effort to verify those points

194 Konstan 1983: 107. Konstan makes Melaenis’ wounded pride a major theme of the play, pointing out that, because of her social status, Melaenis has no choice but to suffer the disrespectful treatment of Alcesimarchus’ oath breaking.

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before extracting at length the details of the lost daughter’s parentage (602-22). This exchange sets up the audience’s expectation that Demipho will betroth his Sicyonian daughter, instead of his Lemnian daughter, to Alcesimarchus, but I do not think Melaenis would make the same conclusion from this conversation. In New Comedy, the audience is expected to have more knowledge about the outcome than the characters. Demipho and Alcesimarchus’ father want to socially join their two households by marrying their children to each other; this goal can be equally accomplished with either of Demipho’s daughters. A certain part of the entertainment value comes from the fact that we know that Melaenis’ decision will ultimately result in

Selenium’s marriage to Alcesimarchus, but we must watch Melaenis struggle to make her choices without that knowledge. She may, however, suspect that Selenium’s prospects for marriage to Alcesimarchus will be better once her citizen parentage is revealed. She understands that she will receive no benefit from handing over her daughter (minus meam), but she is willing to make that decision anyway, putting her foster daughter’s financial security and happiness above her own. vi. Citizens, courtesans, and slaves: cross-class relationships

Many kinds of reward are not open to Melaenis, but members of disadvantaged social and economic classes might obtain credit or goodwill from someone in a more advantageous position. Unless one is a suppositious child with citizen parents waiting to be discovered, the courtesan lot in life, like the slave lot, is fixed. The meretrix, Melaenis, and the her slave,

Halisca, are motivated by the possibility of small rewards, such as comes from the favor of someone socially superior, but in order to receive such rewards they must get the credit for a good deed. In Melaenis’ case, she is trying to earn the gratitude of a citizen woman, and in

Halisca’s case, she is trying to earn the gratitude, and avoid the wrath, of her mistress. This is

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why Melaenis decides that she should personally introduce Selenium to the matrona Phanostrata, rather than let Syra point her out. Similarly, Halisca and Lampadio vie for credit for the reunion, and at the same time fear punishment for any hindrances they might create. Halisca is charged by her mistress with the important task of arranging a meeting between Melaenis and Phanostrata so that Selenium’s identity can be revealed (635-37). Melaenis gives her a casket (cistella) with identifying tokens, the same casket that was found with Selenium seventeen years before, to take to Phanostrata when she arranges the meeting. When Halisca embarks on the errand, she encounters Alcesimarchus in the midst of a passionate threat to commit suicide unless he can be with Selenium. Selenium becomes distressed and begs Melaenis and Halisca to stop him from killing himself, but he snatches Selenium and carries her into their apartment before anyone can intervene. During the commotion, Halisca accidentally puts the casket down and forgets about it.

When she discovers her mistake (after Melaenis has left the stage), she gives a long monologue lamenting her inevitable and severe punishment (671-94). Fear is a powerful motivator in her actions. The knowledge that one could be physically abused for any mistake or even perceived mistake must have been an ever-present factor in the relationship between a slave and her mistress. Halisca is motivated by a negative: she has lost something –a physical object but also her potential standing with her mistress – and now works to regain it. She knows she will suffer unless she corrects her error. Lampadio, on the other hand, starts off the scene in a neutral position with his mistress (Phanostrata), and is motivated by the wish for rewards. A slave never has very good standing, but he can become more valuable and gain better treatment by helping other people get what they want. When Halisca discovers that Lampadio found and took the casket, they enter into a heated negotiation because of the symbolic value it holds for each: the contents mean nothing to Halisca, but not having the casket will cause her to incur the wrath of

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her mistress; the contents mean nothing to Lampadio, but since Halisca wants it, he knows he can use it to obtain a favor from Halisca. As they negotiate, Lampadio says he is not looking for argentum, but an operam bonam (739). Money would have limited value to him, but a favor might help him change his standing with his mistress, bringing him better treatment for a time.

Halisca replies that she “does no favors for free” (nulla opera gratuita est 740). In other words, they are coming to an agreement that she will do him an opera bona if and only if he gives her the casket. Phanostrata, who has been present for the entire conversation, ends the bargaining process by announcing that they indeed have the casket (741-42). Thanks to the conversation she just witnessed, Phanostrata realizes that Halisca knows to whom the casket belongs. Lampadio no longer has any power in this relationship: all his work for a favor from Halisca was for naught, because his mistress took control of the situation by revealing the information that

Halisca was seeking.

Our attention now shifts to the relationship between Halisca and Phanostrata. Although socially and economically inferior, Halisca has something that Phanostrata needs, and so

Phanostrata makes Halisca “a partner in [Phanostrata’s] salvation” (sociam te mihi adopto ad meam salutem, 744). Phanostrata becomes emotionally dependent upon a slave because this particular slave has the power to reunite her with her daughter. Halisca, however, is still concerned primarily with her relationship with her own mistress: unless she fulfills her orders (to use the casket as bait to arrange a meeting with Phanostrata), there may be repercussions. Once

Halisca has explained everything, she asks Phanostrata for her reward: quid? quaiam quaero meam (“Well? I seek my half of the reward,” 757). Lampadio, of course, chimes in asking for his third of the reward (758), still hoping for some perks based on his role in

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finding the casket. When Phanostrata ignores the requests, Halisca appeals to her sense of fairness and compassion:

aequom est per fidem quod creditum est, ne bene merenti sit malo benignitas. nostra haec alumna est, tua profecto filia: et redditura est tuam tibi, et ea gratia domo profecta est. ceterum ex ipsa opsecro, exquaeritote: ego serva sum. (760-65)

It is only fair that what was trusted to you in good faith be returned, lest the kindness of one deserving well turn out to be a source of harm. She is our foster daughter, your daughter certainly: and she will be returned to you, and my mistress set out from home for that very purpose. About the rest, I beg you, question her yourself: I’m just the servant.

All Halisca wants is the casket so that she can avoid getting into trouble. She does not want to be part of the drama of the once-lost-now-found daughter: she thinks it is more appropriate that the two citizen women talk about those details. She says, “I’m just the servant,” that is, she is just doing what her mistress asked. She knows that Melaenis wants credit for the reunion, credit with a socially superior citizen, and it is her job to help make sure that Melaenis gets that credit. In order for Halisca to maintain her good standing with her mistress, she has to help Melaenis obtain a good standing with Phanostrata. Phanostrata agrees that Halisca’s request for the return of the casket is fair, but fears that if she parts with it, she might lose the chance to reconnect with her daughter. The casket is her only physical link to her long-lost child, and she clings to it as an emotional substitute. She understands that Halisca knows how to find her daughter, and she can see that Halisca will not leave without the casket. Lampadio therefore comes up with a solution to satisfy all – all except himself, but maybe he hopes that if he continues to be helpful, his mistress will reward him: Phanostrata gives the casket back to Halisca, satisfying Halisca’s wishes, but Phanostrata follows Halisca to meet Melaenis, which means that Phanostrata never has to let the only link to her daughter out of sight. This will satisfy Melaenis’ orders, too,

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because Melaenis and Phanostrata will meet and Melaenis can get credit for giving Selenium back to her birth mother. Everybody is happy, and three relationships are improved. vii. Summary

The relationships between Halisca and Melaenis and their social superiors are contrasted with the solidarity of the ordo eulogized by Syra in the opening of the play. The slave has limited power when dealing with her mistress, and a courtesan has limited power when dealing with a citizen. Trust across class lines is not high, but cooperation can sometimes be achieved when the social inferior has something that her superior wants and the latter is in a position to reward the former. The antagonism that Syra anticipated in her speech was not realized, since Phanostrata and Melaenis were able to overcome their distrust to cooperate. Plautus, and likely his

Menandrian model the Synaristosai, has created a number of relationships that defy the expectations of literary stereotypes. The matronae and meretrices behave civilly towards each other, working together to achieve a common goal. The meretrices do have to consider financial necessity, but they frequently put emotional concerns ahead of these necessities: Selenium would rather starve than be unfaithful to her lover; Melaenis is willing to let her daughter go – and with her, the income that Melaenis might get by hiring her out to multiple lovers – in order to see her daughter happy and more financially secure than Melaenis could ever be; and Syra and

Gymnasium are willing to sacrifice three days’ pay to help out a dear friend. In fact, the most prominent feature in these relationships is not their status as meretrices, but their roles as virtual sisters (Gymnasium and Selenium), friends, mothers, daughters, and lovers. Plautus portrays them in a very human light, focusing on the bonds of family and friendship, while demonstrating how these relationships are tested by the economic situation of the courtesan life.

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E. Terence’s Eunuch: Affection for a Foster Sister

For the final play of this chapter we move from Plautus to Terence. In the Eunuch, based on Menander’s Eunouchos and Kolax, I examine the relationship between the meretrix Thais and her foster sister, Pamphila, who is several years younger than Thais. The fact that they were raised as sisters created a bond of affection between the two, but unlike the previous plays, Thais and Pamphila have always been aware that Pamphila is a citizen. Thais has chosen to respect

Pamphila’s birth status, rather than exploit her potential as a courtesan. Unlike the sisters of the

Bacchides, these two are not bound together by ties of blood, and unlike the older sister of the

Bacchides and the mothers of the Asinaria and Cistellaria, Thais knows that Pamphila will never contribute any income to the family. Thais has recently moved from Rhodes to Athens and relies on two lovers for support: Phaedria, of modest income, and a rather wealthy soldier named

Thraso. She must balance her need for financial support with her desire to reunite her pseudo- sister, Pamphila, with her birth family.

Pamphila was kidnapped by pirates as a small girl, purchased by a merchant, and given to

Thais’ mother, presumably also a meretrix, as a gift. Pamphila and Thais were raised as sisters, but when their mother died, control of the estate fell to Thais’ uncle, who decided to sell

Pamphila because of her beauty and musical skills. Fortunately for Thais, the soldier Thraso bought Pamphila, not knowing her connection to Thais, and intends to give Pamphila to Thais as a gift. Thais hopes to get possession of her sister in order to restore her to her citizen family, but she also wants to keep Phaedria and Thraso as paying lovers. In order to accomplish all of her goals, Thais must juggle her two lovers in a way that keeps the jealousy of both at bay. While

Thraso is still in possession of Pamphila, he hesitates to give her to Thais because he believes

Thais cares for Phaedria more; he is therefore not in the mood to give Thais such an expensive

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gift. In order to placate Thraso, Thais intends to shut Phaedria out for a brief period and give

Thraso her undivided attention. Phaedria is upset about being sent away, but Thais tries to explain that she has to shut him out against her own wishes (95-97).195 She tells him the story of her sister and explains that she needs to concentrate solely on Thraso if he is to hand over the girl as promised.

There are many things that Thais wants and needs for herself and for her sister, but she cannot fulfill all of these desires without some conflicts. First, I will address her emotional and financial relationship with her two lovers, Phaedria and Thraso. She harbors genuine affection for Phaedria, and he supplies her with some income, but not enough to meet all of her needs.196

The sincerity of her attachment is demonstrated by her monologue, after he has departed the stage, in which she tells the audience:

ego pol, quae mihi sum conscia, hoc certo scio neque me finxisse falsi quicquam neque meo cordi esse quemquam cariorem hoc Phaedria. (199-201)

By Pollux, my conscience and I know this for certain: I have invented no falsehood and that there is no one dearer to my heart than Phaedria.

She displays her love for Phaedria by confiding in him at the start of the play, sharing her dilemma regarding her sister. By bringing him into her confidence, she makes him feel as if he is the one true object of her affection, a person whom she can truly rely on emotionally. We might suspect that she is flattering him were it not for her confession to the audience. Phaedria, however, is unable to supply her with sufficient income. In an effort to prove that he does not

195 Line numbers and text of the Eunuch are from Kauer and Lindsay 1926. 196 On account of her genuine affection for Phaedria, most scholars who are inclined to enter the good whore/ bad whore debate classify Thais as a good whore. Gilula 1980: 164 argues that, while she was created out of the mala meretrix stock-type, Terence makes her genuinely love Phaedria; therefore Gilula classifies Thais as one of Plutarch’s “loving-in-return” courtesans (see above, p. 104). Gruen 1991: 170 calls her a meretrix mixta: “externally mala by dint of her profession but predominantly bona by virtue of her character.”

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deserve to be cast aside for Thraso, Phaedria recently purchased a maid and a eunuch for Thais

(163-69), but his gifts pale in comparison to Thraso’s. We must suppose that Thais tolerates the waning of his beneficence in recent months on account of her feelings for him. She needs the additional support of a lover like Thraso, who is a successful mercenary soldier and has not yet depleted his wealth, as Phaedria has. For these reasons, then, both financial and emotional, Thais has strong motives to maintain a good relationship with both lovers.

Thais also needs to keep Thraso in her good graces because he still has possession of

Pamphila. Thais gives several reasons for wanting to be reunited with Pamphila, including affection and self-interest. When she takes Phaedria into her confidence, she tells him:

nunc ego eam, mi Phaedria, multae sunt causae quam ob rem cupio abducere: primum quod soror est dicta; praeterea ut suis restituam ac reddam. sola sum; habeo hic neminem neque amicum neque cognatum: quam ob rem, Phaedria, cupio aliquos parere amicos beneficio meo. (144-49)

Now, my Phaedria, there are many reasons why I desire that she be returned to me: first, because she is said to be my sister; furthermore, so that I may restore and return her to her family. I am alone; I have no one here, neither a friend nor relative: for this reason, Phaedria, I desire to procure some friends for my benefit.

The first reason she gives is her sentimental attachment to the girl who was raised as her sister, even though they are not biological siblings (hence, she is only “called” – dicta – her sister). The second reason she gives is a practical one: by restoring Pamphila to her citizen family, Thais hopes to acquire an Athenian patron. Because she has no social support in Athens, and because she is a meretrix, she can only hope to gain the protection of a citizen family out of gratitude.

After Phaedria leaves the stage, Thais confesses a third motive in a monologue:

et quidquid huius feci causa virginis feci; nam me eius fratrem spero propemodum iam repperisse, adulescentem adeo nobilem; et is hodie venturum ad me constituit domum. (202-5)

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Anything that I’ve done I’ve done for the sake of the girl: for I hope that I have already found her brother, such a noble young man; and he has arranged to come to my house today.

Her final stated motive is causa viriginis: although she does not elaborate, this confession, given alone onstage, represents her truest motive, to help Pamphila. Her affection for her foster-sister is strong: she is unhappy that Pamphila was sold into slavery (at 134, she says it was “fortunate” – fortuna – that the soldier bought Pamphila immediately after she was put on the market), and she shares with Phaedria her anxiety about protecting Pamphila’s virginity (144-45). Thus she seems to be putting effort into protecting Pamphila’s prospects for a better life. While this is her primary motive, Thais’ efforts also protect her own chances of gaining a citizen patron.

All of these goals create conflicts for Thais. She wants and needs to keep both lovers as paying customers, but each one desires for Thais to prove that he alone holds the number one spot in her heart. In addition, she wants to gain possession of her sister, who must remain a respectable virgin, but she is currently relegated to the unrespectable role of music girl and slave.

Although Thraso has promised to hand Pamphila over as long as Phaedria stays away, he still has the power to tarnish Pamphila’s reputation in the meantime by treating her like the music girl he believes her to be. For her own sake, Thais wants nothing more than to please Thraso in order to keep his business, but for Pamphila’s sake, Thais must sometimes object to his wishes in order to preserve Pamphila’s reputation. Thraso does allow Pamphila to stay in Thais’ house, but Thais worries that Thraso, who is has legally purchased Pamphila, will take her back. Jealous of

Phaedria, Thraso decides that when Thais pays attention to another man, he will increase his attentions towards Pamphila – an acceptable situation if she were truly a slave, but wildly inappropriate if she is a citizen. The problem comes to a head when Thais attends a dinner party at Thraso’s house, and she receives word that Pamphila’s brother, Chremes, has arrived in

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response to her summons. Thais understands that inviting Chremes inside will make the soldier jealous, but she cannot risk Chremes losing patience with her and severing communication. She decides to do it anyway, and Thraso retaliates by asking the servants to call for Pamphila to entertain them. Thais is outraged because Pamphila’s appearance at a dinner party will tarnish her reputation: to act as a courtesan is to be a courtesan. When she objects, it further enrages

Thraso because he concludes, incorrectly, that Thais is jealous. Thais treads on thin ice, but she still hopes that she can please Thraso enough that he will allow Pamphila to remain with her.

While Thais concentrates her efforts on protecting Pamphila from Thraso and ill repute,

Chaerea, the younger brother of Phaedria, gains access to Thais’ house in the guise of a eunuch and rapes the girl. When her handmaids, Pythias and Dorias, discover the rape, they are upset at the trauma she has been through, and angry with the impious scoundrel (illum scelerosum atque impium, 643) who dared to commit the crime. Pythias expresses shock at Chaerea’s daring (644), reports that he tore Pamphila’s dress and hair during the rape (645-46), and expresses a desire to take physical revenge upon him by clawing his eyes out (647-48). As the maids share in the protection of the girl before her rape – not because they know her status, but because Thais has charged them with that duty (curate istam diligenter virginem, 505) – so after the rape they share her distress. Pythias is so moved by the tragedy that she cannot bring herself to speak of the rape directly when she finally has the chance to inform Thais (818-33). Sharon James has noted that

Terence’s Eunuch is unusual in the attention it pays to the emotional and physical trauma of rape.197 He shares this feature with Menander (but not Plautus198), in whose Epitrepontes

197 James 1998: 31-32. 198 Pierce 1997: 176.

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Habrotonon describes a rape that she witnessed with similar attention to the violent details.199

Pythias’ description in Eunuch has another effect, though: it shows us the strong empathy that these slave women feel for a fellow slave girl whom they have only just met. Pythias and the older women were given the responsibility of protecting Pamphila, a beautiful and rather young girl who had just been introduced to the household. Perhaps they felt a motherly sense of duty to watch out for the inexperienced slave girl entrusted to them. When she suffers a violent and traumatic rape, they are upset because this is the type of horror from which they wanted to protect her. While the slave women are upset by how the rape affects Pamphila personally, only

Thais will be worried about how the rape affects her marriageability, because only Thais is aware of Pamphila’s citizen status.

Thais is at first unaware of the rape because it happened while she was at Thraso’s dinner party. She anticipates trouble from a different source, however, because she realizes that the arrival of Chremes has provoked the jealous anger of Thraso, and she fears that he will come to her house to reclaim Pamphila (739). Ever conscious of her many goals, she adapts quickly, bringing Chremes up to date so that he can help her protect Pamphila. She believes, with good reason, that if she can convince Chremes that Pamphila is his sister, he will be inspired to stand up to Thraso and prevent Pamphila’s abduction. Thais tells Chremes hanc tibi dono do neque repeto pro illa quicquam abs te preti (“I give her to you as a gift and do not ask for any money from you in return for her,” 749). She does not mention any desire for non-monetary rewards, such as patronage or favors. By giving the gift freely, she is making a wise decision: if she exchanges Pamphila for money, then the transaction is complete and Chremes has no debt of

199 Omitowoju 2002: 174 suggests that such descriptions of violence are intended to signal to the audience that this was a forcible rape against a non-consenting girl, rather than a seduction. Richlin 1992: 168 suggests that the focus on a woman’s fear in Ovid’s rape scenes is intended to make her seem more desirable.

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obligation to her. If she gives Pamphila as a gift, she is starting a friendship of mutual favors. In fact, Chremes replies et habetur et referetur, Thais, ita uti merita es gratia (“I am grateful and I will return the favor, Thais, as you deserve,” 750). He accepts her gesture as the beginning of a friendship and understands that he now owes a favor in return.

Thais is all too aware that she and her handmaids are not physically capable of warding off a group of trained soldiers. Chremes alone is no match for the men, and in fact he attempts to slip out and gather a group of friends before Thraso arrives. Thais stops him, hoping that

Chremes’ citizen status alone will prevent Thraso from attacking him. She tells Chremes:

immo hoc cogitato: quicum res tibist peregrinus est, minus potens quam tu, minus notus, minus amicorum hic habens. (759-60)

Rather, think about this: the man you have to deal with is a foreigner, less powerful than you, less known, and having fewer friends here.

Her comment underscores her own precarious position in Athens and shows the need of having citizen male connections in Athens. She is disappointed at Chremes’ apparent lack of courage, but her options are limited, so she chooses to coach Chremes into being a more effective champion (765-69). She will make the best use of the only possible patron she can hope to have.

As is not uncommon in New Comedy, Thais’ actions lead to a positive outcome in ways that she did not anticipate. When she learns of Pamphila’s rape, she does not go to her sister, comfort her, or express distress at the pain she has suffered. Rather, she focuses her energy on the practical matter of salvaging the situation for her sister’s sake and for her own: Chremes will owe her no favors if she restores his sister to him having been violated. When Thais learns who the rapist is (Phaedria’s brother) and how he gained access to the girl, she is ashamed at having been fooled (dispudet mihi, 832-33), but she takes comfort in the fact that they immediately locate the perpetrator (834). This gives her the chance to control the situation before word gets

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out and Pamphila’s reputation is ruined. When Thais confronts Chaerea, he is a little sheepish but does not try to hide what he has done, since he thinks he has committed a minor infraction and is willing to admit it (850-60). Thais informs Chaerea how his actions have affected her plans for herself and for her sister:

neque edepol quid nunc consili capiam scio de virgine istac: ita conturbasti mihi rationes omnis, ut eam non possim suis ita ut aequom fuerat atque ut studui tradere, ut solidum parerem hoc mi beneficium, Chaerea. (867-71)

By Pollux, now I don’t know how I can carry out my plan for the girl: you have really disturbed all of my plans, such that I cannot restore her to her family in a way that is fair and in the way I desired, so that I might procure for myself a guaranteed favor, Chaerea.

This brings us back to two of Thais’ stated motives from earlier in the play: doing the right thing for Pamphila, and restoring her in a way that will earn Thais a solidum beneficium. It is fair and just (aequom) to Pamphila to protect her reputation and give her the best possible chance for a secure future. Chaerea responds by turning the tables: Thais can no longer place Chremes in her debt, but Chaerea places himself in Thais’ debt:

at nunc dehinc spero aeternam inter nos gratiam fore, Thais. saepe ex huiusmodi re quapiam et malo principio magna familiaritas conflatast. quid si hoc quispiam voluit deus? (872-75)

But now I hope that there can be everlasting favor between us on account of this matter, Thais. Often from this sort of thing and from bad beginnings the spark of a great friendship arises. What if some god willed this to happen?

Chaerea invites Thais into a permanent relationship of mutual favors. Thais, as head of her household, has the authority to enter into such a friendship, but Chaerea is not in a position to commit his father’s household to the same friendship. Nonetheless, he now understands that he has committed a grave offense. What is more, he is desperately in love (at least in his own mind: the reader might question whether rape counts as love) and requires a protector to help him

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escape punishment and secure the girl he desires. He entrusts himself completely to Thais, asking her to help arrange his marriage to Pamphila:

nunc ego te in hac re mi oro ut adiutrix sies, ego me tuae commendo et committo fidei, te mihi patronam capio, Thais, te obsecro: emoriar si non hanc uxorem duxero. (885-88)

Now I beg you to be my helper in the matter, I entrust myself and commit myself to your protection, I take you as my patron, Thais, I beg you: I will die if I do not marry this girl.

Although he does not have the authority to offer his family’s assistance, Thais heeds his pleas and helps arrange his marriage to the girl. It is, she understands, her best chance at salvaging the situation. Now that Pamphila has been raped, her rapist is the only possible husband if the rape becomes known. Thais can restore her to her brother with arrangements for a respectable citizen marriage. Meanwhile, Chaerea has placed himself in her debt directly, but his family will also be grateful: the rapist of a citizen girl is liable to serious legal penalties, unless both families agree to a marriage between the perpetrator and victim. By getting Chremes to consent to this marriage, Thais has done a favor not just to Chaerea, but to his father. In fact, Chaerea confirms that Thais’ assistance has put her in the good graces of his own family: Thais patri se commendavit, in clientelam et fidem | nobis dedit se (“Thais entrusted herself to my father, and gave herself over to our patronage and our protection,” 1039-40). She now has the protected status of client in their household.200 In the end, Chremes could not offer her much, but

Chaerea’s family could and did, out of gratitude for keeping Chaerea out of trouble. It is a good thing that Thais chose to work with Chaerea instead of against him; although she could not be

200 The language of patronage (cliens, fides) is perhaps a compliment to Thais who, as a courtesan, does not participate in the patronage system in the way that citizen men do. Pepe 1972: 143-44 draws attention to the fact that, although one can technically be both a client and a patron, in reality, it is incongruous for Thais to both be in the protection of Chaerea’s father and be the protector of Chaerea.

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assured that this action would result in a citizen patron for her, she understood that it was her best chance for citizen gratitude and Pamphila’s best chance for a good life.

Unlike the courtesans of the previous three plays I examined, Thais does not have a fellow courtesan with whom she can share the burden of financially supporting herself, but this is by choice: she decides not exploit the potential earning power of her foster sister, who is, in the eyes of the world, a fellow courtesan. Rather, out of sisterly affection and a shrewd business sense, she decides to go for a more permanent but harder to achieve solution. By finding a citizen patron, she can obtain long-term financial support for herself, even though her interactions with

Thraso and Phaedria show us that she is quite capable of juggling the multiple customers who are required to fully support a courtesan. By restoring her sister to her family and facilitating a citizen marriage, she achieves what is financially and socially the best possible outcome for

Pamphila. She also places her sister in a family with which she now has long-term ties, allowing the women who bonded as sisters to remain in close contact in the future. As an attractive young woman skilled in music, Pamphila could have earned a great deal of money as a meretrix, income which would have been enjoyed jointly by herself and Thais. Despite her own economic needs, Thais decides not to capitalize on this obvious source of income and instead put

Pamphila’s security ahead of her own. Perhaps it is Thais’ awareness of the difficulty and uncertainty in her own life that leads her to choose a better life for her foster sister.

F. Conclusion

By reading against the dominant view (certainly the dominant view in modern scholarship, if not the ancient view), I’ve shown that the women of these plays are defined first and foremost by their relationships to their mothers, daughters, sisters, and friends, rather than as meretrices, defined by their relationships to men. Menander, Plautus, and Terence create female

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characters who are not bound by stereotypes but continue to frustrate the expectations created by literary conventions. The sisters of the Bacchides have a tender and supportive relationship, much like the one we will see between citizen sisters in Plautus’ Stichus, to be discussed in

Chapter 5. The young girls of Cistellaria are as close as sisters despite being unrelated, and

Thais’ relationship with Pamphila is characterized by the fact that they were raised as sisters, not the fact that they were raised as courtesans. Elder sisters, such as Thais and Bacchis (of the

Bacchides) look out for their younger siblings, Thais by securing a citizen marriage for

Pamphila, and Bacchis by finding a way to keep Soror close at hand and under her protection. As the person responsible for Pamphila’s future, Thais behaves much like the mothers in Asinaria and Cistellaria by trying to do what is best for the girl, even when this means handing over a beloved family member to her citizen parents, as Melaenis does with Selenium (Cistellaria).

When the girl is truly a courtesan, and not a citizen foundling, a mother might struggle to balance the daughter’s happiness with the harsh reality of financial necessity, as Cleareta (Asinaria) and

Syra (Cistellaria) did. Finally, common station and years of familiarity creates the same kind of friendship in courtesans (Gymnasium and Selenium, as well as Syra and Melaenis, of

Cistellaria) as in citizen women, as we will see in Chapter 5 (particularly Cleostrata and

Myrrhina in the Casina).

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Chapter 5: Ethical Deliberation by Women in New Comedy

In this final chapter I examine instances of ethical deliberation by women of various classes in New Comedy. In these instances, women weigh their options over choices that might affect their relationships with other women. These relationships might be between citizens – including sisters, friends, mother-daughter pairs, and in-laws – or across classes, such as between citizen women and courtesans or concubines. Some of the needs and wants of citizen women are the same as those we saw with the courtesans of Chapter 4: strong bonds of affection between family members and friends make citizen women willing to take certain risks on behalf of those they love. The way in which citizen women achieve security, however, has a profound affect on their relationships and the decisions that they make regarding those relationships. Whereas a courtesan seeks financial security by entering into as many lucrative sexual relationships as possible, a young citizen woman seeks social and financial stability through a respectable citizen marriage and the production of a male heir; married women with grown children, meanwhile, are relatively secure both socially and financially, but seek harmony in their relationships with spouses, children, and friends.

In my reading of Plautus’ Stichus, I will demonstrate how two citizen sisters settle their minor differences, both out of a desire to have a harmonious relationship and because they must unite if they are to oppose their father. Next, with Plautus’ Casina, I demonstrate how two citizen women, who are neighbors and friends, weather discord in their friendship, which is ultimately strong. In Terence’s Hecyra, I look at several intertwined relationships among a recently married citizen girl, her mother, her mother-in-law, and her husband’s exclusive courtesan, examining the social risks taken and decisions made by each woman. Two plays of

Menander, the Epitrepontes and Samia, similarly involve a mix of women of very different

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social statuses but whose lives are intertwined in one small, complex social network. While the characters and circumstances of each of the three plays are slightly different, together they give us a picture of how different social statuses affect the practical and emotional needs of women.

A. Plautus’ Stichus: Sisters, Wives, and Daughters (in that Order)

In this play I examine the relationship between two sisters, Panegyris and Pamphila, who work together to oppose their father’s wishes.201 While a didascalic note to the Stichus names

Menander’s Adelphoi as the source of this play, the newly discovered Antioch mosaic confirms that it is based on the Adelphoi/Philadelphoi of Menander.202 Unfortunately we have but a few fragments of that play and are unable to examine Menander’s treatment of the relationship between the two sisters.203 In the Stichus, the women experience economic hardship because their husbands, who are brothers, have been abroad for two years. Their father, Antipho, believes it is in his daughters’ best interest to remarry. Despite minor disagreements about their situation, the two sisters desire to work together and have a harmonious relationship, and they provide each other with valuable emotional support. Poster neatly sums up why these two women have captured so much scholarly attention:

The play opens with a dialogue between Panegyris and her sister, two young married women who are both intelligent, witty, decent, and loyal to their husbands. They are not autocratic matrons, silly girls, or grasping prostitutes; instead, they are as charming a pair of heroines as might be found in any author.204

I will show that the women act first and foremost in accordance with their identities as sisters, then as wives, and lastly as daughters.

201 For the name of the second sister, Lindsay 1903 follows the Ambrosian palimpsest, which has “Pamphila” in the scene I.1 header, but that name does not go back to Plautus (Arnott 1972: 74 n.2). 202 Gutzwiller 2011. A didascalic note to Stichus names Menander’s Adelphoi as the Greek source of this play. 203 For the fragments of Menander’s Adelphoi, see Kassel and Austin 1998: 45-53. 204 Poster 1995: 315.

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When the sisters discuss their situation in the opening scene, a minor disagreement about how to deal with it creates tension in the relationship. Panegyris compares them to Penelopes, since they suffer the long absence of their husbands and feel the pressure of maintaining a household alone (1-6). The comparison allows Pamphila to introduce her main argument, duty

(officium), a theme that can be mapped onto Penelope’s story.205 She tells Panegyris that, like that heroine, it is their duty to endure their husbands’ absences:

nostrum officium 7 nos facere aequomst, 7a neque id magis facimus 8 quam nos monet pietas. 8a

It is right that we do our duty, and we do no more than what piety bids us.

Her gentle admonishment indicates a conflict between the two women, since Pamphila believes that it is not right to complain. She then transitions to a related topic: their father’s desire to find them new husbands. She argues that he is currently executing his duty (officium, 14) in an immoral way (improbus, 14).206 A serious crime in her eyes, she feels strongly about his actions and is tormented (crucior, 11). Panegyris feels sympathy for her sister and tries to comfort her:

ne lacruma, soror, neu tuo id animo fac quod tibi tuos pater facere minatur: spes est eum melius facturum. (20-22)

Don’t cry, sister, and do not yourself create the mental anguish that your father threatens to create: there is hope that he will act better.

She tries to alleviate her sister’s distress by telling her that it will not be as bad as she expects.

First, she waives off the accusation, claiming that their father must be joking when he says he

205 Morality, particularly ius and officium, is a major theme of the play, not limited to the arguments of Soror. See Petrone 1977 for an illustration of how this moral message is used and abused in the three separate story lines of the play. Soror uses the language of morality in particularly high concentration: she mentions aequus and officium six times each. See Arnott 1972: 57 for the full catalogue of moral language in Soror’s speech. 206 Latin text for the Stichus and Casina is taken from Lindsay 1903.

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plans to break their marriages (23). Next, she admits that he might be serious, but they should not object because his decision is justified (27-30). She resents that their husbands have been away for so long and does not feel the same sense of duty as her sister. The gentle social admonishment goes both ways: both women are notably upset by what each feels is a serious issue, but neither receives validation from the other. Panegyris wants someone to confirm that it is okay to resent her husband’s absence, and Pamphila wants someone to confirm that their father is unjustified. For each woman the natural person to seek out for this reassurance is her sister: they share a bond not just because they are in the exact same situation, but because they are family. Their long-standing blood relationship provides them with the security they seek to express their innermost fears and confess a desire to do some very socially unapproved things: leave one’s husband, or disobey one’s father.

The two women do not remain in disagreement for long, partly because Pamphila actively works to bring the two to a mutual understanding. She echoes Panegyris’ lament that the men have been away two years (30); she is clearly suffering, too, and she understands her sister’s pain. Panegyris continues to explain her sorrows, a particular source of distress being they do not know whether their husbands are safe and when they plan to come home (31-33). Pamphila deduces that Panegyris’ loyalty is wavering because she believes her husband’s failure to communicate is a dereliction of duty:

{SO} an id doles, soror, quia illi suom officium 34-35 non colunt, quom tu tuom facis? {PA} ita pol. 36

{SO} Is this why you are upset, sister? Because they do not do their duty, but you do yours? {PA} Yes! That’s exactly it.

Now Soror is getting somewhere: she understands that her sister’s resistance comes from resentment, and this allows her to craft a targeted argument. She first tries to silence Panegyris

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(tace sis, cave sis audiam ego istuc | posthac ex te, “Quiet! May I never hear those words from you again!” 37-38). The quick command for silence reflects her belief that her sister has said something socially unacceptable.207 Pamphila explains that one’s sense of duty is absolute; it is not conditional upon someone else fulfilling his duty:

quia pol meo animo omnis sapientis suom officium aequom est colere et facere. 40 quam ob rem ego te hoc, soror, tametsi es maior, moneo, ut tuom memineris officium: etsi illi improbi sint atque aliter nos faciant quam aequomst, tam pol ne quid magis sit omnibus obnixe opibus 45 nostrum officium meminisse decet. (39-46)

Because, by Pollux, in my opinion, it is right for all thinking people to pay attention to their own duty and act on it. For this reason, sister, even though you are older, I take it upon myself to advise you to remember your duty: even if they are immoral and act otherwise than in a manner that is fair to us, nevertheless, by Pollux, let us not add to the problem,208 but we must remember our duty fervently and with all of our resources.

It seems particularly important to Pamphila that the two women hold the same position on their absent husbands, and she has put a significant amount of intellectual effort into bringing her sister over to her point of view. Pamphila started this conversation by mentioning an adversary, their father (12); her strategy for opposing him requires that the two women present a united front. Her argument on duty successfully removes Panegyris’ objections, who says, placet. taceo

(“You make a good argument. I’ll drop my objections,” 47). The sisters leave the stage with one mind, and from this point forward they work against their father in complete cooperation. As

207 Cf. Casina 203, discussed in the next section of this chapter, where Myrrhina silences her friend Cleostrata with the same words, tace sis, when Cleostrata complains about her husband’s interest in a slave girl. 208 The text is corrupt, but the sense can be deduced.

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Krauss suggests, we should view this scene as “a short-lived sibling quarrel rather than a profound conflict.”209

Now that the sisters are in agreement about what they must do, Pamphila turns the conversation to strategic planning, but she is also looking for emotional support. She asks, quid agimus, soror, si offirmabit pater advorsum nos? (“What should we do, sister, if our father is steadfast in his opposition to us?” 67). She seeks assurance that she has a partner in this difficult endeavor, and she wants to know that someone believes they will succeed: she has the strength to oppose her father only if her sister stands by her. Although Pamphila was the more confident sister in the first scene, now she looks to Panegyris to take the lead, a role that Panegyris accepts.

She devises their strategy, proposing that they attempt to win over their father with entreaties:210

exorando, haud advorsando sumendam operam censeo: gratiam per si petimus, spero ab eo impetrassere; (70-71)

I think the deed must be accomplished by supplication, not opposition: if we ask for a favor, I hope he will grant it.

Their father also decides to adopt an indirect tactic of persuasion and flattery (75-87), and when he finally confronts the girls, it is a game of deception on both sides. The sisters work in concert to soften (and distract) their father with kisses and caresses (88-101), and Pamphila continues on her moral theme, saying that good women take care of their fathers and husbands (96-98). Their father, Antipho, poses a question about the characteristics of a good wife, pretending that he, a widow, intends to remarry (102-8). The sisters contribute equally but in different ways to their own cause, alluding to their own situation more and more directly: Pamphila says a good wife is not gossiped about (113-14) – as one would be if she divorced her husband in absentia;

Panegyris says, and Pamphila agrees, that a good wife avoids temptation (117, 119-20) – such as

209 Krauss 2008: 30. 210 For an analysis of the sisters’ clever strategy and rhetorical skill, see Krauss 2008.

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arises when one is unguarded by a husband for two years; Panegyris says that a wise woman is patient when things are going poorly (124-25) – as the two women are being patient in the face of very adverse circumstances. When their father finally proposes that they take new husbands, the sisters defend their position with moral and logical arguments: either their father did not think the husbands were a good match in the first place, in which case he never should have given his daughters to them, or he did think the husbands were a good match, in which case it is unfair (non aequomst, 131) to remove the girls. Moreover, Pamphila is rather fond of her husband (placet ille mihi, 133), and she argues that she married a person, not money (134).

Finally, Panegyris refutes the charge that the women are disobeying their father’s orders

(imperium patris, 141): they are obeying the order he gave several years ago, when he gave them in marriage to the brothers (142). They are taking a risk in opposing their father, for he still has considerable social power over them, but together they work to minimize that risk by persuading him that they are still loyal daughters. He concedes the argument and exits, leaving the sisters jubilant.

The women have taken care of this particular obstacle, but the original problem still remains: they are struggling to survive in the absence of their husbands. Panegyris invites her sister inside, but she declines because she has to look after her own house (intervisam domum,

147). In fact, we learn that the women are having trouble making ends meet: Panegyris summons her husband’s old parasite to the house to ask for a loan of wheat (249-54). Although they have postponed the possibility of remarriage for now, like Penelope, their problem can only be truly solved by the return of their husbands, and they will lead difficult and anxious lives until then.

They vow to inform each other immediately if either hears from her husband:

{SO} si a viro tibi forte veniet nuntius, facito ut sciam. {PA} neque ego te celabo neque tu me celassis quod scias. (148-49)

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{SO} If you should happen to get a message from your husband, make sure you let me know. {PA} I will keep nothing from you, and don’t you keep anything that you find out from me.

The two women suffer together, but with the anticipation that they will one day rejoice together when good news finally comes. In the meantime, it is comforting to have a sister and friend in the same situation. When the husbands eventually return, enriched by their mercantile gains, the sisters are rewarded for their patience and loyalty.

The Stichus treats a variation of a literary topos in which a father pressures his daughter

(usually just one daughter) to divorce but she refuses.211 The opening scene of the Stichus is similar to P. Didot I, a papyrus of forty-four lines from the mid-second century B.C.E., which many scholars believe is an excerpt from a Menandrian play, some the very play upon which the

Stichus is based.212 It is seen again in Menander’s Epitrepontes (702-835), and later in Roman rhetorical handbooks (Rhetorica ad Herennium 2.24; Seneca’s Controversiae 2.2) as an exemplar for philosophical debate about a father’s moral and legal authority. Traill provides a composite outline of the case made by the daughter(s):

(1) that a woman knows her own business best; (2) that ethical considerations outweigh practicalities; (3) that the marriage bond is inviolate; (4) that the husband is satisfactory; (5) that a second marriage is no solution; and (6) that the father is overstepping his authority.213

In each appearance of this theme, the daughter uses moral and practical arguments. In the

Stichus, Pamphila argued that she liked her husband and that it was her officium to remain married to him. For comparison, I provide an excerpt from P. Didot I:

211 See Traill 2008: 213-23 for a discussion of the literary topos and Scafuro 1997: 306-25 for an investigation of the legal realities behind it. 212 For a summary of the scholarly opinions on the attribution of this fragment, see Page 1970: 180-185 and Gomme and Sandbach 1973: 723-24. 213 Traill 2008: 216.

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γέγενον ἐκεῖνος εἰς ἔμ’ οἷον ἠξίουν, ἐμοι τ’ ἀρέσκει πάνθ’ ἇ κἀκείνωι, πάτερ. ἀλλ’ ἔστ’ ἐμοι μὲν χρηστός, ἠπόρηκε δέ· σὺ δ’ ἀνδρί μ’, ὡς φής, ἐκδίδως νῦν πλουσίωι ἵνα μὴ καταζῶ τὸν βίον λυπουμένη. καὶ ποῦ τοσαῦτα χρήματ’ ἐστιν, ὦ πάτερ, ἃ μᾶλλον ἀνδρὸς εὐφρανεῖ παρόντα με; ἢ πῶς δίκαιόν ἐστιν ἢ καλῶς ἔχον τῶν μὲν ἀγαθῶν με τὸ μέρος ὧν εἶχεν λαβεῖν, τοῦ συνπορηθῆναι δὲ μὴ λαβεῖν μέρος;214 (17-26)

He is for me all that I wished for, and it pleases me to be everything to him. But [you say] he is good for me, but poor: now you give me to a wealthy man, as you say, so that I will not live my life in distress. And where is this great wealth, father, which, once I have it, will make me happier than my husband will? How is it either just or good for me to take a share of the good things, when he had them, but that I not take a share of the poverty?

Like Pamphila, she makes an ethical argument about staying with her husband: it is just

(δίκαιον) and correct (καλῶς ἔχον) not to leave the man to whom she was given, the man whom she loves, simply because he is poor. The argument in P. Didot I, that it is δίκαιον to stay with one’s husband, is not the same thing as the argument in the Stichus, that it is a woman’s officium. While the former places emphasis on an ethical system that is perceived to be universal, the latter specifically focuses on the responsibility of a woman to do what is culturally mandated.

Petrone connects Pamphila’s moral message with the historical circumstances of the play, which was produced in 200 B.C.E. to celebrate Scipio’s return from Africa and peace: the sisters in the

Stichus should be faithful to their absent husbands just as Roman wives should be faithful to the absent soldiers.215 The repeated use of officium reflects a decidedly Roman cultural code of expectations for men and women in marriage and in wartime.

As discussed in Chapter 1, ethical debate between sisters in conflict is a literary trope that allows the author to present on stage deliberation that might otherwise take place internally. By modifying the resisting-daughter theme to include two daughters in the Stichus, rather than one,

214 Text from Page 1970: 186. 215 Petrone 1977: 36-39. It was Wagenvoort 1932: 310-11 who first illustrated that the occasion for the play was Scipio’s return from Africa.

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Plautus is able to explore reasons why a daughter might secretly want to concede the divorce, even if she outwardly opposes her father. The speaker of the Didot papyrus, by contrast, appears to have always held a clear, unwavering position on the subject. Rather than presenting one ideal heroine as a model for Roman womanly virtue, the Stichus presents two rather more human characters. Panegyris expresses a very realistic anxiety about having been abandoned, as well as the resentment that we might expect from a woman whose culture requires that she be loyal to her long absent husband, but not vice versa. To see this play as a simple philosophical debate about a father’s authority over his daughter misses the second, less conventional debate about the unfairness of a woman’s lot. If Petrone is correct, that Pamphila’s speech on officium is a message to contemporary Roman women to remain loyal to their absent husbands in wartime, then Panegyris’ hesitation adds a cynical layer, because she makes a good case justifying women’s resentment. The disagreement between the sisters in lines 1-62 is not just a petty and meaningless disagreement, but a passage of literary importance that changes the tone of the inherited topos: they are not ideal Roman women, but simple people with ordinary human weaknesses. In the scene that follows, in which the sisters present united opposition to their father, the ignoble tone is continued: the daughters win over their father not with the ethicality of their arguments, but through flattery and deceit. When scholars falsely present the sisters as having one mind from the start, attaching the sentiments of Pamphila to both sisters,216 they miss this significant and irreverent layer. The opening of the Stichus is not simply a philosophical debate on duty, but an exploration of the humanity of these two women.

216 As does Segal 1987: 22.

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B. Plautus’ Casina: Friendship between Established Matronae

The Casina offers a rare example in comedy of a woman willfully creating friction with her friend. Two established matronae, Cleostrata and Myrrhina, live next door to each other and have a long-standing friendship.217 When Cleostrata faces marital problems, she looks to

Myrrhina for empathy, but Myrrhina refuses to take Cleostrata’s side against her husband. Over a century ago, Legrand interpreted this exchange as a philosophical debate between the female and male points of view, where Cleostrata represents the former and Myrrhina the latter.218 By reading this scene through the male-versus-female lens, scholars miss that Myrrhina does not advocate for the allegedly male point of view because she supports men’s interests; rather, she accepts the male perspective as the culturally dominant one and tries to protect her friend from the repercussions of opposing masculine authority. Their opposing viewpoints on advisable behavior in a marriage creates tension in the friendship when Myrrhina fails to offer the sympathy that Cleostrata seeks, but it is a risk she is willing to take in order to protect her friend.

Cleostrata, in turn, neglects her duties of friendship in an effort to thwart her husband, but

Myrrhina is willing to forgive her temporary stubbornness.

The trouble stems from the fact that Cleostrata’s husband, Lysidamus, has taken a fancy to their slave girl Casina, who is, unbeknownst to anyone in the play, the lost daughter of

Myrrhina. Lysidamus schemes to gain sexual access to Casina by arranging her marriage to his personal slave, Olympio. Cleostrata’s son, Euthynicus, is also interested in the girl, and has devised a similar plan to marry Casina to his own slave. Aware of her husband’s intentions,

Cleostrata attempts to keep her husband from Casina by lending practical support to the efforts

217 The play is based upon the lost Kleroumenoi of Diphilus. Again we do not know how the Greek poet treated the relationship between these two friends and neighbors. 218 Legrand 1902: 371.

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of her son. The first cause of her distress appears to be wounded pride: vir me habet pessumis despicatam modis, (“My husband treats me despicably in the worst ways,” 185-86). She also dwells on the fact that Casina is her property:

quin mihi ancillulam ingratiis postulat, 193 quae mea est, quae meo educta sumptu siet, 194 vilico suo se dare: 195 sed ipsus eam amat. 1952

But he demands, against my wishes, that I give my little slave girl to his foreman in marriage, a girl who is mine, who was bought up at my own expense: but [my husband] himself is in love with her.

The concept of ownership is emphasized by the contrast of mihi, mea, and meo with se and suo.

The final line (1952) shows that jealousy is a factor, too: the affront is all that much worse because Lysidamus wants the girl for himself.219 She later reiterates the issue of property rights: when Lysidamus tries to betroth Casina, Cleostrata objects that this right belongs to her (260-61), as the person who has seen to the practical and financial side of raising the girl. Perhaps she chooses to make this argument against Lysidamus because she believes it will be most effective.

It is socially acceptable and legal for Lysidamus to sleep with as many of his female slaves as he desires, and his wife is expected put up with it. Such infidelities, if we may call them that, were common, and although women could initiate divorce in Roman society, it would be foolish for her to do so in such a case.220 The difficulty for a divorced woman to find financial support is

219 Jachmann 1931: 108 suggests a third reason for Cleostrata’s distress: concern for her foster daughter’s future. I do not see an explicit evidence for this concern, but it is certainly possible. Fraenkel 2007: 203-4 argues that line 1952 appears to be an afterthought and attributes it to Plautine interpolation: Diphilus’ Κληρούµενοι, the Greek inspiration for this play, Cleostrata was unaware of her husband’s amorous feelings until much later in the play. In a later edition, however, Fraenkel retracts this argument (Fraenkel 1960: 434 n. 281), stating that he was convinced by the rebuttal of Jachmann 1931: 108-9. 220 Treggiari 1991: 40 states that both women and men are judged negatively by the community if they pursue divorce for what is considered to be a frivolous reason, but accusations of such moral impropriety are lodged against women more often than men.

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prohibitive, and her father is unlikely to approve of her decision to leave her husband for such a pardonable (in the male mind) offense.221 Her only remaining option, then, is to be angry and, if she so chooses, stir up some (additional) marital discord. She explains how she plans to punish her husband:

neque paro neque hodie coquetur 150 quando si mi et filio advorsatur suo animi amorisque causa sui 152-54 flagitium illud hominis! ego illum fame, ego illum siti 155 maledictis, malefactis amatorem ulciscar, ego pol illum probe incommodis dictis angam, faciam uti proinde ut est dignus vitam colat, Accheruntis pabulum, flagiti persequen- 160 tem stabulum nequitiae. (150-61)

I will not make his lunch nor cook for him today, since he has set himself against me and his own son, on account of his own desire and lust, that disgrace of a man! I will take my revenge upon that lover-boy with hunger, thirst, maledictions, and malefactions, by Pollux I will thoroughly choke him with harsh words, I will make it so that he leads the life he deserves, that offering for the underworld,222 that follower of debauchery, that den of vileness!

Since Lysidamus is failing in his husbandly duties by coveting another woman, Cleostrata’s revenge is to neglect her wifely duties of preparing his meals. McCarthy likens this act of rebellion to that of slaves in Roman Comedy: because the husband/wife relationship is immutable, with the wife being eternally subordinate, Cleostrata’s housewife rebellion is only a temporary aberration.223 She feels powerless to affect the situation, and her emotions get the best of her in the scenes that follow.

221 On the different standards for male and female fidelity in marriage, see Corbier 1991: 51; Treggiari 1991: 38-41; Shelton 1998: 54-55; and Braund 2005: 42-46. Plautus recognizes the double standard, that men are free to have sex with slaves and prostitutes but women must be faithful to their husband, in Mercator 817-29. 222 MacCary and Willcock 1976: ad 158 explains that Acheruntis pabulum (“hell-fodder”) is someone who is about to become a resident of the underworld. 223 McCarthy 2000: 77-84, especially 80.

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Although she has no lines and no stage time, the events of the play have a profound affect on Casina’s future. She is a foundling, who was raised as Myrrhina’s slave but a citizen by birth.

In the epilogue we are told:

haec Casina huius reperietur filia esse ex proxumo eaque nubet Euthynico nostro erili filio. (1013-14)

This Casina will be discovered to be the daughter of the person next door and she will marry our Euthynicus, son of the master.

Arnott argues that huius ex proxumo refers to Myrrhina, but that the baby did not belong to

Myrrhina’s husband Alcesimus, hence the need for exposure.224 Casina’s status is also revealed in the surviving prologue (81-83). Since parts of the surviving prologue are clearly from a production staged after Plautus’ death, it is difficult to know precisely who wrote lines 81-83.

Plautus’ prologue, however, would have undoubtedly included this information. Plautus appears to have reduced the Euthynicus-Casina marriage plotline from the Greek original, the

Kleroumenoi of Diphilus, giving more attention to the frustration of the old man’s lecherous designs.225 Nonetheless, the audience would have known both from the prologue and from their knowledge of comic conventions that Casina, the beautiful and chaste young virgin who never appears on stage, would be recognized as a citizen by the end of the play so that she can legally marry the adulescens who desires her. The audience is made to fear for the girl as they watch

Lysidamus scheme to defile her and Cleostrata fight to oppose him. Casina’s protection depends on the outcome of Lysidamus and Cleostrata’s marital tiff.

Upset by her husband’s actions, Cleostrata sets out for Myrrhina’s house in search of a sympathetic ear: nunc huc meas fortunas eo questum ad vicinam (“Now I’m going to my

224 Arnott 2003: 40-42. 225 See Questa and Scàndola 1988: 61-65 on the authorship of the surviving prologue and the Plautine alterations to the recognition plotline.

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neighbor’s to lament my misfortunes,” 162). At first it appears that Cleostrata will find what she seeks, because Myrrhina is very sensitive to Cleostrata’s mood, that is, empathetic, and aspires to be sympathetic. She notes Cleostrata’s sadness and asks her to share her troubles (172-73, 179), saying, nam quod tibi est aegre, idem mist dividiae (“For whatever is troubling for you is equally a source of distress for me,” 180-81). This part of the exchange is similar to the scene in

Cistellaria, discussed in Chapter 4, where the courtesan Gymnasium notices that her friend

Selenium (a pseudo-courtesan) is upset (Cist. 53-54), asks her to explain what troubles her (Cist.

56-57), and proclaims that Selenium’s tears elicit her own tears in empathy (Cist. 58). As with the girls in the Cistellaria, Myrrhina and Cleostrata enjoy a long-standing friendship that they rely on for emotional support.

When Cleostrata explains the reasons for her anger (lines 93-952, quoted above), however, Myrrhina does not give her the validation she seeks. In fact, when Cleostrata argues that Casina is her property, Myrrhina attempts to silence her, believing such a statement to be socially risqué:

{MY} obsecro, tace. {CL} nam hic nunc licet dicere: nos sumus. {MY} ita est.226 (1952-97)

{MY} Hush, I beg you! {CL} It’s okay to speak here now: we are alone.227 {MY} True.

226 I have reproduced the text of Naudet 1830, accepted by MacCary and Willcock 1976, who follow the innovative line attributions of Acidalius 1607. Lindsay 1903 emends tace to dice to make sense of the inherited line attributions: {MY} obsecro dice, nam hic nunc licet dicere: nos sumus. {CL} ita est. I find Acidalius’ solution to be more eloquent. 227 Most interpret an ellipsis (nos sumus [solae]), but Naudet 1830: 585-86 ad loc believes that is unnecessary. He explains the meaning as it stands as nos sumus [quae confabulamur, neque quisquam adest arbiter]. Either interpretation comes to the same thing: they can speak freely.

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Already Myrrhina shows discomfort because the two of them are saying things of which men – the dominant social voice – might not approve. Although Cleostrata convinces her that they can speak safely without being overheard, Myrrhina still objects to Cleostrata’s claim that Casina is her property:

{MY} unde ea tibi est? nam peculi probam nil habere addecet clam virum et quae habet partum ei haud commode est, quin uiro aut subtrahat aut stupro inuenerit. hoc uiri censeo esse omne quicquid tuom est. (198-202)

How did this [slave girl] come to be yours? For it is not proper for an upstanding woman to have private property without her husband’s knowledge, and if she has property, she did not come by it properly, but she either stole it from her husband or acquired it by dishonesty. By this token, I believe that everything that is yours belongs to your husband.

When Cleostrata seeks sympathy, Myrrhina does not give it. Rather, she seeks to undermine the premise of Cleostrata’s distress: Cleostrata is upset because her husband took control of her property, but Myrrhina counters that Cleostrata has no property, ergo her husband has done nothing to upset her. It might appear to the reader, and it certainly appears to Cleostrata, that

Myrrhina is failing to meet the emotional needs of her friend. When Cleostrata asks for affirmation of her feelings, Myrrhina openly refuses to grant it. In Cleostrata’s interpretation,

Myrrhina is “speaking against [her] friend” (tu quidem advorsum tuam amicam omnia loqueris,

“Indeed you are saying all of these things against your own friend,” 203). Fraenkel reads the passage in this way, arguing that it is incongruous with the otherwise amicable relationship between Myrrhina and Cleostrata and must therefore be a Plautine interpolation:

The principles which Myrrhina espouses in lines 199-211 fit neither her character nor her behaviour during the rest of the play nor the nature of her friendship with Cleostrata. The two women are in complete harmony; the intimacy of their relationship is studiously emphasized at the beginning of this scene (179-83). Cleostrata is deeply worried; such

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cold-blooded opposition by her friend, as it is portrayed in only one set of lines, 199-211, is intolerable: it contradicts the way the Greek poet has clearly shaped the whole play.228

This interpretation, however, does not take into account the lines that follow immediately, in which Myrrhina tries to explain that Cleostrata has misinterpreted her objection:

tace sis, stulta, et mi ausculta. noli sis tu illi aduorsari, sine amet, sine quod lubet id faciat, quando tibi nil domi delicuom est. (203-7)

Quiet, you foolish woman, and listen to what I’m saying! Do not set yourself against your husband: allow him to love, allow him to do what he likes, as long as nothing is lacking for you at home.

The words tace sis and mi ausculta, expressed in frustration, indicate that Myrrhina believes

Cleostrata is not listening: Cleostrata does not understand that Myrrhina is making another argument entirely. Myrrhina says that not heeding her advice is foolish (stulta): in other words, she tries to say that she is discussing a matter of prudence, not a matter of emotional needs.

Cleostrata’s misunderstanding continues, and she accuses Myrrhina of setting herself against all women: Satin sanas? nam tu quidem aduorsus tuam istaec rem loquere, (“Are you insane? For now you are saying things against even your own interest!” 207-8). This line, no doubt, plays a large role in the scholarly misinterpretation of this passage. In fact, Legrand goes so far as to speculate that, since Myrrhina’s arguments seem to favor the masculine point of view, they must have originally been spoken by another character in Diphilus’ play, namely Cleostrata’s father, and the Plautine adaptation reflects this.229 Such speculation is unnecessary, however. Myrrhina tries once and for all to clarify in what way she is actually speaking for Cleostrata’s interest, not against it:

{MY} insipiens, 209

228 Fraenkel 2007: 204. 229 Legrand 1902: 372.

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semper tu huic uerbo uitato abs tuo uiro. {CL} quoi verbo 210-12 {MY} i foras, mulier. 213

{MY} Foolish woman! You must always guard against this command from your husband. {CL} Which command? {MY} “Woman, leave my house.”230

Finally Myrrhina has phrased her position bluntly: Cleostrata must watch what she says and does, because displeasing her husband could result in divorce.231 While Cleostrata clings to an abstract principle of fairness, Myrrhina tries to explain that life is not always fair. And both are right: surely it is unfair that Cleostrata’s husband can use his masculine authority to interfere with the slave girl whom Cleostrata has raised, whose future Cleostrata has spent years planning, and whose happiness is on the line. Surely it is unfair for Lysidamus to use his position of power to rape a young virgin. But Myrrhina is also right: if Cleostrata opposes her husband in this, she will get little support from society, and might suffer gravely for her culturally inappropriate intervention. From her perspective as a third-party, Myrrhina is able to keep a level head and understand the possible consequences of Cleostrata’s actions, regardless of what is fair. She tries in vain to share her wisdom with her friend.

Myrrhina is not Plautus’ mouthpiece for the male prospective, as Legrand has suggested; she is the objective observer whose primary goal is to protect her friend. Cleostrata and Myrrhina may be talking to each other, but they are having two very different conversations: Cleostrata seeks emotional support, but Myrrhina gives practical support. Cleostrata believes Myrrhina is

230 Ceasing to cohabitate constitutes divorce, and this could be initiated by either the husband, by commanding his wife to move out, or the wife, by moving out; no public authority was involved. See Treggiari 1991: 33-34 and Borkowski and du Plessis 2005: 128-29 on the initiation of divorce. Treggiari 1991 and Corbier 1991 cover the social aspects of divorce more broadly. 231 Braund 2005: 45 understands Myrrhina’s position as I do: “[Myrrhina] argues for turning a blind eye to her husband’s love affairs – provided her home life is still comfortable – because of risk of divorce.” Braund (46) gives several examples in Roman Comedy of the theme of morigera: a wife must be “compliant with her husband in domestic and sexual matters.”

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being unsupportive and misogynistic; Myrrhina sees that Cleostrata’s judgment is clouded by her anger and emotional pain. Their miscommunication leads to more frustration and hurt feelings.

As the conversation unfolds, Myrrhina realizes that her approach is creating animosity in the friendship (setting her advorsum suam amicam), but she is willing to risk this disharmony in favor of her friend’s wellbeing. Cleostrata, meanwhile, by focusing her energy on her relationship with her husband has neglected her relationship with her friend. Her all-consuming desire for vengeance temporarily interferes with her ability to catch the signals that Myrrhina really does care about her and is offering the appropriate kind of support. While Myrrhina’s approach may be unusual, I would not go so far as to call it out of character and problematic, as

Langen does.232 She is still performing the duties of a friend, albeit in a different way than

Cleostrata (and many scholars) expect.

Cleostrata’s focus on retaliation against her husband continues, to the extent that she risks offending her friend in an effort to injure her husband. He and his friend, Alcesimus (who is

Myrrhina’s husband), plot to find Lysidamus an empty house in which to pursue relations with

Casina. To achieve this, they agree to suggest to their wives that the two women should get together at Cleostrata’s house to prepare for the wedding. Alcesimus returns home and informs his wife Myrrhina that she will be receiving an invitation to go next door; Lysidamus returns home and suggests to his wife that she have Myrrhina over. Cleostrata, however, begins to suspect the plot and so determines to foil it by not summoning her neighbor. In an aside,

Alcesimus reports that Myrrhina is all dressed up and ready to go, an image suggesting impatience:

miror huc iam non arcessi in proxumum uxorem meam,

232 Langen 1886: 127-28. This misreading (that Myrrhina’s character is inconsistent) persists in scholarship all the way up through McCarthy 2000: 82 and 102.

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quae iam dudum, si arcessatur, ornata exspectat domi. (539-40)

I’m surprised my wife has not already been called over here to the neighbor’s; she has been waiting at home, all dressed up, for a long time now, in case she gets an invitation.

He then encounters Cleostrata and tries four times to convince her to call her friend over, including the suggestion that Myrrhina is “waiting” for her (illa te manet, 542). Cleostrata knows that Alcesimus has an ulterior motive; therefore she does not give in to his attempts, but she also shows no concern for the possibility that Myrrhina may perceive her actions as a slight.

Cleostrata does not offer to explain to Myrrhina in person that they will no longer be getting together; she simply leaves her hanging, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Meanwhile, she congratulates herself on making a fool of Alcesimus (iam hic est lepide ludificatus, “Now then, he has been played quite nicely,” 558) and wishes that her husband would come along so that she could similarly make a fool out of him (559-60).

Like the argument between the two sisters in the Stichus, Cleostrata and Myrrhina give every appearance of wanting to agree, suggesting that their dispute is only temporary. In fact, they quickly reconcile and combine forces to thwart Lysidamus. Myrrhina participates fully in

Cleostrata’s latest plot to embarrass her husband by substituting a man in drag for the bride,

Casina. Lysidamus believes that his schemes have prevailed because his own bailiff is set to marry Casina, but when Lysidamus attempts to get the new bride alone, he will discover that

“she” is really a he. Myrrhina and Cleostrata cooperate in this final trick, as is reported by the handmaid Pardalisca:

illaec autem armigerum ilico exornant duae quem dent pro Casina nuptum nostro uilico. (769-70)

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The two women are in there decking out an arms-bearer,233 in order to give him in marriage to the bailiff in place of Casina:

Pardalisca, too, is a full conspirator, reporting to the men with elaborate melodrama that Casina has gone into a homicidal rage, a performance designed to keep them away from Casina until the time of the wedding (621-712). She takes great delight in the fact that the whole household is involved in duping the master and his favored servant (759-79). Her characterization draws largely on the “tricky slave” stock type, and it is not unusual to see a slave collaborating with a citizen to outwit the master, although usually a male slave collaborates with an adulescens against the youth’s father. In this play, the desire to trick the men is a point of bonding between

Pardalisca and the citizen women.

Although they experience a brief conflict at the beginning of the play, Myrrhina and

Cleostrata enjoy each other’s full support, both practical and emotional, by the end. Their friendship is marked by a level of social security: as established matronae who have raised heirs to adulthood, neither fears much for her marriage and the access to shelter, food, or other amenities that a solid marriage brings.234 Since they are not faced with the same sort of stress that courtesans face, their relationship is not one of mutual dependency for their very livelihood.

They are, however, two women in similar social situations who have become close friends because of their spatial proximity and commonality of experience. Their friendship, like their respective marriages, is strong enough to weather a little discord from time to time.

While Cleostrata’s interference with her husband’s plans may not be socially sanctioned, her stubbornness proves to have a positive social outcome: the protection of Casina. As Myrrhina

233 The term armiger denotes a slave who has served his master in the army, but it is also a sexual pun indicating the masculinity of the slave who is to be substituted for Casina. 234 Although legally a divorce is possible even at their stage in the relationship, Treggiari 1991: 40 notes that it is unlikely because, among other things, “Contemporaries are particularly severe on husbands who divorced a wife who had borne children or who had committed no fault.”

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indicated, Cleostrata’s claim that the girl is her property holds no water, because women do not have property. Myrrhina’s sustained efforts to bring Cleostrata over to the side of reason make

Cleostrata seem increasingly more unreasonable. When Cleostrata refuses even to invite her friend to her house as planned, she might appear, in her dogged pursuit of vengeance, to be petty.

However, rather than lose sympathy for Cleostrata, the audience would admire her all the more for sticking to her principles in the face of such great opposition, because they understand that

Cleostrata’s vengeance-plot is the only thing protecting the virgin girl from rape by a lustful old man. Although it was socially acceptable for a man to have sexual relations with his slaves, the character of Lysidamus is nonetheless thoroughly unlikeable; he is portrayed as an old lecher, and his amorous intentions would receive no support from the audience, who would instead favor the romantic endeavors of the adulescens. Thus Cleostrata’s relentless opposition to the marriage is in accordance with what is morally right, even though she is unaware of all of the facts and therefore unable to oppose Lysidamus for the right reasons. In Aristotle’s schema, she makes the right decision, but in ignorance. Her argument for fairness would receive some sympathy, but her stubbornness does not appear to be justified (or at least wise) without the knowledge that Casina’s virginity is worth fighting for. This morally complexity marks the skill of the playwright(s) and contributes to the audience’s enjoyment of the play.

C. Terence’ Hecyra: Four Women in a Quandary

The Hecyra, or “Mother in Law,” examines the ideas of stereotypes and prejudice in human behavior, presenting several female characters as morally superior individuals who do not succumb to the prejudice exhibited by the patriarchs of the two families. The mother-in-law and the meretrix particularly do not act according to the stereotypes of wicked and mercenary,

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respectively.235 In his dissertation, Terence’s Dark Comedy, Alan Zeitlin explores Terence’s presentation of citizen males as individuals who are simultaneously the backbone of society and morally inferior to those who are believed to be amoral by nature: women and prostitutes. The message, he argues, is that the contemporary moral system is broken.236 The opening conversation between courtesans Philotis and Syra introduces the theme of stereotypes when

Syra claims that all men are faithless and break the hearts of their meretrices, as the young man of the play, Pamphilus, has done to the courtesan, Bacchis, by taking a wife (63-65).237 Philotis, however, disagrees that all men are the same and expressly refuses to treat them all alike (63-75).

Terence has set up an intriguing situation in which Philotis, a member of the supposedly inferior gender and a profession incapable of ethical behavior, becomes the voice of morality. Whereas ethics are often defined from the standpoint of the citizen male, as I described in Chapter 4 with regards to the financial needs of courtesans, in this play, the ethical code of the citizen male is exposed as flawed. Meanwhile, the responsibility of defining ethical behavior and grappling with tough issues falls to the women, starting with the debate between Philotis and Syra. In this section, I will examine the ethical decisions made by two matrons (Sostrata and Myrrhina), a newly married young woman (Philumena), and a courtesan (Bacchis).

The mother-in-law of the title is Sostrata, wife of Laches, mother of Pamphilus. Her daughter-in-law, Philumena, is the child of next-door neighbors Phidippus and Myrrhina. Many of the ethical choices in the play revolve around the unintended pregnancy of Philumena, who does not know that the baby she carries belongs to her husband. Ten months prior to the start of

235 Braund 2005: 61-62 says, “[t]he unorthodox nature of these two female characters compounds the degree of experimentation in this play,” and she blames the play’s well-known comic failure on the supposition that the play was too experimental for the audience’s taste. 236 Zeitlin 1998: 1. 237 Latin text and line numbers for the Hecyra are taken from Kauer and Lindsay 1926.

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the play, Philumena was raped by an unknown assailant (actually Pamphilus), a crime that she hid from her family. A few months after the rape, Pamphilus and Philumena were married, with everyone but Philumena believing that she was a virgin. Pamphilus refused to consummate the marriage, however, because he still held strong affection for the courtesan Bacchis, even though she had ended relations with him after his wedding. Several months after the wedding,

Pamphilus left town for an extended journey, during which time Philumena began to withdraw from her in-laws, eventually returning to her natal home where she hoped to conceal the pregnancy from everyone except her mother and the handmaids. Laches, Phidippus, and Sostrata know only that, when left alone in the house with Sostrata (for Laches resides at the country house most of the time), Philumena withdrew from her mother-in-law. The incompleteness of their information is the root of many misunderstandings, as we would expect in New Comedy. I will examine how the revelation of new information affects the relationships between various characters: how Myrrhina protects her daughter; how Sostrata works towards the reconciliation of the bride and groom; how Bacchis confronts the citizen women; and how Philumena experiences her relationship with her mother, her mother-in-law, and her husband’s ex-lover.238 i. Myrrhina’s Choice

Myrrhina is the only person in her daughter’s full confidence at the start of the play, which makes her role as the protector of the secret pregnancy all the more important. The opening of the play focuses on the in-laws’ perspective: Philumena withdraws from her new husband’s family, pretends to have been summoned to her parents’ house, and ultimately moves out. They are left to speculate on the reasons for her behavior. From Myrrhina’s perspective, she is unaware of any problem until her daughter arrives at home, in distress and, as she undoubtedly

238 Gilula 1979 examines the dramatic effect of the revelation of new information.

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confesses to her mother at once, pregnant by an unknown man as the result of a rape before the marriage. Myrrhina throws herself wholeheartedly into the protection of her daughter and her daughter’s secret, willingly deceiving her husband and ignoring the feelings of her son-in-law and his family. She has a strong bond with her daughter and wants her to be happy; she wants and needs to protect her from social rebuke and a poor future.

A closer examination of Myrrhina’s decisions will reveal the extent of her investment in her daughter. The play presents many opportunities for internal ethical debate through a plot device that is common to New Comedy: certain characters have more information than others, and the former party tries to deceive the latter. As more information becomes available to the latter, the former must decide how to change their story in order to continue the deception, often creating new problems where none currently existed. Initially, Myrrhina and Philumena are the only two (along with some slave women) who know that Philumena is pregnant. Myrrhina endeavors to conceal the pregnancy from everyone, particularly the patriarchs of the two families, Laches and Phidippus. But then Pamphilus returns from abroad and finds out about the pregnancy when he bursts into Philumena’s room (365-78). Myrrhina tries to contain the situation by swearing him to secrecy (378-96). Her distress is unconcealed: Pamphilus reports, iam ut limen exirem, ad genua accidit | lacrumans misera: miseritumst (“Just as I was going out the door, the poor woman fell to her knees crying: it was a pitiful sight,” 378-79). Carney remarks on the profoundness of this gesture:

The point of the line is that the position of the (Roman) matron in her own home was not a humble one – and M. is, furthermore, represented as dominating her husband in this play – so that such an act of supplication would strike the audience as truly extraordinary.239

239 Carney 1963: ad 378.

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Myrrhina makes increasingly more desperate promises: they will claim that the baby was miscarried (398), or if that fails, she will expose the baby after its birth (400), so that no one else need know it ever existed and allowing the young couple to resume their marriage, if that is what

Pamphilus wants. Whether or not he takes her back, Myrrhina begs him to keep the secret illi miserae indigne factam iniuriam contexeris (“to conceal a wrong done to the wretched girl undeservedly,” 401). Carney notes the depth of Myrrhina’s shame: she never mentions her daughter by name, referring to her only as illi miserae.240 Pamphilus agrees to mention the pregnancy to no one, yet does not believe he can take his wife back. From this point forward,

Myrrhina is not protecting Philumena’s chance at reconciliation with her husband, but rather

Philumena’s reputation, which is untarnished as long as Laches and Phidippus remain ignorant of the pregnancy.

The real trouble for Myrrhina and Philumena starts when it becomes apparent that

Phidippus, who barges into Philumena’s room just after she has given birth, is about to discover the baby. Now she must think seriously about what to do next, and the gravity of the decision is apparent in her speech:

perii, quid agam? quo me vortam? quid viro meo respondebo misera? nam audivisse vocem pueri visust vagientis; ita corripuit derepente tacitus sese ad filiam. quod si rescierit peperisse eam, id qua causa clam me habuisse dicam non edepol scio. sed ostium concrepuit. credo ipsum exire ad me: nulla sum. (516-21)

I’m a goner- what am I to do? Where am I to turn? What will I, wretched me, tell my husband? For it seems he has heard the cry of the baby, so suddenly but quietly he rushed to his daughter. But if he finds out that she has given birth, by Pollux I do not know what excuse I will give for keeping the secret. But the door creaks open. I believe he is coming out here to me: I’m toast.

240 Carney 1963: ad 401.

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Her words show that she is not thinking just of Philumena, but of herself (perii and nulla sum).

Myrrhina worries how her husband will react to the fact that she concealed such a secret from him, fearing that marital discord will follow. Myrrhina must choose a course of action, then, that somehow protects Philumena’s reputation and protects herself from her husband’s displeasure.241

Ireland notes that Myrrhina does let fear paralyze her for long: “The tenor of Myrrhina’s initial statements suggests a scene in which she is browbeaten by her husband, but it is in fact

Phidippus who is characteristically forced to give ground.”242 The explanation that Myrrhina first offers is that the baby belongs to Pamphilus (527-28); now that Phidippus knows his daughter has a baby, the only possible honorable explanation is that the baby belongs to the girl’s own husband. This solution, however, does not save Myrrhina from the charge of thwarting her husband’s authority. As Phidippus sees it, the baby, who happens to be a boy, would cement the union between the young couple and solve whatever differences they have been having lately.

He cannot understand why his wife would keep such good news a secret, and he therefore accuses her of deliberately trying to create conflict in the children’s marriage (529-36).

Convinced of this conclusion, Phidippus then attempts to fit the known evidence to his theory, claiming that his wife has been against the marriage from the beginning. He recalls Myrrhina’s hesitation at the time of the wedding, when she was reluctant to hand her daughter over to a boy who still had a mistress (536-39). Myrrhina seizes the new opportunity and decides to let her husband believe that the meretrix, Bacchis, is the cause of the marital problems between

Philumena and Pamphilus and the reason that she is not trying to reconcile the couple. She says to the audience: quamvis causam hunc suspicari quam ipsam veram mavolo (“I prefer that he

241 See Goldberg 1986: 154-55 on Myrrhina’s profound agitation for both herself and her daughter, visible in this monologue. 242 Ireland 1990: ad 516-76.

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suspect that reason than the right one,” 540). Phidippus and Myrrhina enter into a little debate as to how a marriage can best benefit a family. Phidippus argues that it is his decision to choose a suitable husband for their daughter (541-46), and Myrrhina argues that Pamphilus is an unsuitable groom because of his attachment to a courtesan (547-48). She has now switched the focus of her blame from Bacchis to Pamphilus, and in fact she maneuvers the conversation so that the responsibility of the next decision lies with Pamphilus. She instructs Phidippus to have a talk with Pamphilus and ask whether he will take Philumena back. If he does, then the problem is solved; if he does not, Myrrhina says that she will have “done the right thing for her daughter”

(sin est autem ut nolit, recte ego consului meae, 559). But Myrrhina knows that Pamphilus will refuse, because she knows that Pamphilus is already aware of the child and believes it is not his.

She transfers the responsibility for the situation onto Pamphilus, knowing that now he, not she, will appear to be the unreasonable one. Her decision is unfair to Pamphilus, since she knows he will end up looking bad, but it is more important to her to do right by her daughter. The cleverness and risk of her strategy is noted by Ireland:

Myrrhina makes no attempt to defend herself by denying the role attributed to her, a hazardous venture as she had recognised in 540. Rather, she accepts the premises upon which Phidippus’ fabrications are built and uses them to further the establishment of an alternative reality within which Phidippus is steered towards accepting the justice of Myrrhina’s supposed attitude.243

Before she leaves the stage, Myrrhina takes stock of the situation in a monologue: her husband will be very angry if he discovers the whole truth; they are handicapped by the fact that they do not know who the rapist is; and, now that the existence of the child has been made public,

Pamphilus may reveal that he is not the father rather than recognize an illegitimate child. Things are going poorly for both her daughter and herself, which causes her great distress: nullam pol

243 Ireland 1990: ad 556-59.

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credo mulierem me miseriorem vivere (“By Pollux, I think there is no woman alive more miserable than I,” 566).

Myrrhina’s actions demonstrate that her greatest loyalty is to her daughter. It is also worth noting the people in whom Myrrhina is not emotionally invested: Pamphilus, Sostrata (her daughter’s mother-in-law), and the courtesan Bacchis. Myrrhina has many social ties to Sostrata: their children are married, their husbands are friends, and they are neighbors; but the two women have never taken advantage of the opportunity to strike up a friendship. Neither is there any particularly animosity; Myrrhina simply never considers Sostrata in her actions. She never addresses the belief of Laches and Phidippus that Sostrata has driven away her daughter-in-law with unkind treatment. Meanwhile, Myrrhina’s decision paints Bacchis in a bad light undeservedly, since Bacchis will take the blame for dissolving the marriage despite her lack of involvement. But Bacchis is a meretrix: not only is Myrrhina not expected to consider Bacchis’ feelings, she is expected to treat Bacchis as an adversary. It is perfectly fine, maybe even expected, not to consider Bacchis’ reputation. When new information is revealed and Myrrhina has to change her story, Bacchis is a convenient scapegoat.

In Chapter 4, we saw two examples of relationships between courtesan mothers and daughters. Cleareta of the Asinaria raised her daughter in the trade, and Melaenis of the

Cistellaria helped her adopted daughter reunite with her citizen parents so that she would not have to enter the profession. Like those mothers, Myrrhina of the Hecyra fights desperately to protect her daughter and ensure her happiness. While Melaenis could most help her daughter by letting her go, Cleareta and Myrrhina must make the best of the situation which they are given.

For both pairs, the bonds of blood are strong, and the relationship between mother and daughter is the only stable one amidst the uncertainty of a young girl’s romantic affairs.

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ii. Sostrata’s Choice

Sostrata (the mother-in-law) is in a difficult situation due to the impetuous decisions of her husband and son. Laches believes Philumena withdrew because she was mistreated by her mother-in-law, but this belief is not based on actual evidence. Laches sees only the end result, and he postulates a cause based on stereotypes, assuming that all mothers dislike their sons’ wives (198-204). He accuses Sostrata, undeservedly as she says (inmerito, 208), of disgracing herself and her family, causing sorrow for her son, turning friends (Phidippus’ family) into enemies, and being impudent (209-13). Pamphilus, meanwhile, has decided to encourage

Laches’ false assumptions about the cause of the separation. Since Pamphilus has already decided he will not take his wife back, believing that she has given birth to another man’s baby, he uses the alleged rift between his mother and his wife as his excuse. He proclaims that, since he has to choose between the two of them, filial piety makes him choose his mother (470-81).

Just as Myrrhina tried to transfer responsibility for the situation onto Pamphilus, Pamphilus tries to transfer responsibility onto Philumena and Sostrata. Sostrata, although accused unjustly, does not try to pass the blame. Rather, she dutifully proposes a solution that she thinks will remove all obstacles to the reconciliation, even though it requires some self-sacrifice:

{SO} non clam me est, gnate mi, tibi me esse suspectam, uxorem tuam propter meos mores hinc abisse, etsi ea dissimulas sedulo. verum ita me di ament itaque optingant ex te quae exoptem mihi ut numquam sciens commerui merito ut caperet odium illam mei. 580 teque ante quod me amare rebar, ei rei firmasti fidem; nam mi intus tuos pater narravit modo quo pacto me habueris praepositam amori tuo: nunc tibi me certumst contra gratiam referre ut apud me praemium esse positum pietati scias. mi Pamphile, hoc et vobis et meae commodum famae arbitror: 585 ego rus abituram hinc cum tuo me esse certo decrevi patre, ne mea praesentia obstet neu causa ulla restet relicua quin tua Philumena ad te redeat. (577-88)

It is no secret to me, my son, that you suspect your wife left because of something I did, even though you diligently hide it. But, just as I wish the gods would bless me and that all

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the things I want for you would happen, so I swear that I never knowingly did anything to incur or deserve the hatred she feels for me. And I thought that you loved me before, but you have confirmed your loyalty by your actions; for your father told me just now, when we were inside, how you have placed me ahead of your love; now I am determined to return the favor so that you may know that piety is rewarded with me. My Pamphilus, I think that this plan is suitable for you two and for my reputation: I have decided that I will leave here and go out to the country with your father, so that my presence will not stand in your way, nor will any cause remain to keep your Philumena from returning to you.

It is clear that Sostrata is concerned with her reputation: first she swears that she has done nothing to warrant the charges against her, and when she offers a solution, she specifies that it will be good for her fama. She does not argue that the solution will be good for her in any other way. In fact, Pamphilus understands that there will be many negative repercussions for her: tum tuas amicas te et cognatas deserere et festos dies | mea causa nolo (“I do not want you to give up your friends and relatives and festival days for my sake,” 592-93). The participation in religious activities was an important part of public life for women, allowing them to interact socially with the broader community of women. 244 Sostrata explains that her priorities have changed: she is no longer interested in those things, which she got her share of in her younger days (593-95). Her priority now is her reputation:

haec mihi nunc curast maxuma ut nequoi mea longinquitas aetatis obstet mortemve exspectet meam. hic video me esse invisam inmerito: tempust me concedere. sic optume, ut ego opinor, omnis causas praecidam omnibus: et me hac suspicione exsolvam et illis morem gessero. sine me obsecro hoc effugere volgus quod male audit mulierum. (595-600)

Now the thing that is of the greatest concern to me is that no one should feel my advanced age is a hindrance to him, nor should anyone be waiting for my death. Here I see that I am hated, although undeservedly: it is time for me to leave. This is the best way, I think, to eliminate every reason [for disliking me] from everyone: I will both absolve myself of this suspicion and gratify [the gossips]. Allow me, I beg, to escape that negative reputation which dogs women.

244 See Chapter 2 above, p. 40.

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Sostrata finds it unpalatable to be regarded as one who sows discord. She recognizes the importance of joining the two households through a successful marriage and does not want to be the person who stands in the way of that. Like Myrrhina, she is emotionally invested in her child and her child’s successful marriage. Although Pamphilus is also motivated by self-interest, his interpretation of Sostrata’s proposed sacrifice should not be overlooked. Sostrata is willing to give up her entire social network – friends, family, and community – in order to help her son and, hopefully, restore her reputation. It is more important to her to have a good reputation among men (or, more specifically, not to have a bad reputation) than it is to have a social support group. We should not think of her as shallow, though: for a citizen woman, the contempt of her husband and her husband’s friends could cause serious and palpable unhappiness.

When Sostrata leaves the stage, Laches, who has been eavesdropping, engages Pamphilus in conversation. As Ireland notes, Sostrata’s plea is phrased so effectively that it puts her son in a difficult position:

By making the end of her speech ostensibly an appeal to self-interest – that her proposed act, though designed principally to benefit Pamphilus, will also help herself – Sostrata effectively renders her son’s rejection of the offer all the more difficult, as his reaction in 601 and 605 indicates.245

Pamphilus tells Laches that, although he wants to take Philumena back, he will not, because refusing her will somehow make things better for the relationship between his wife and his mother, as if that were the goal. The text of the line to which I refer is difficult: credo ea gratia concordes [magis], si non redducam, fore (“I believe that, if I do not return to my wife, there will be more amity because of that,” 617). Several editors prefer Bentley’s conjucture, non credo ea gratia concordes magis, si redducam, fore (“I do not believe, if I return to my wife, that there

245 Ireland 1990: ad 600.

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will be more amity because of that”).246 Even though these two interpretations have the opposite meaning, both amount to an argument that Pamphilus’ relationship with his wife is not as important as achieving harmony between his wife and mother. Laches calls him out on this poor excuse, stating that their friendship is not the goal: verum id tua refert nil utrum illaec fecerint | quando haec aberit (“But what those two women do does not matter a jot to your situation, since your mother won’t be here,” 618-19). In his mind, the objective is the reunion of the young couple and the cementing of the social link between two families. This goal is shared by

Phidippus, who proclaims: ego, Pamphile, esse inter nos, si fieri potest,| adfinitatem hanc sane perpetuam volo (“I, Pamphilus, want this marital alliance between us to remain solid through the ages, if possible,” 635-36). Pamphilus tries various excuses (655-60), and eventually confesses that he cannot state the real reason for his refusal to take his wife back and runs offstage (698-

99). Laches and Phidippus, who have been provided with incomplete information, decide that there is only one possible explanation left, that Pamphilus will not take his wife back because he is still enamored with the meretrix Bacchis (709-20). They decide to go fetch her and see if they can rectify the situation with her help. This brings us to Bacchis’ choice. iii. Bacchis’ Choice

When Laches and Bacchis meet, Bacchis is cautious from the start because she fears that a meretrix can only be treated with prejudice by citizens:

ego pol quoque etiam timida sum quom venit mi in mentem quae sim, ne nomen mihi quaesti obsiet; nam mores facile tutor. (734-35)

By Pollux I am also afraid, when I remember what I am, that the name of my profession does me a disservice; for I can easily defend my character.

246 Fleckeisen 1898; Dziatzko 1884; Stella 1936; Carney 1963. The conjecture is attributed to Bentley in Zeune 1820: 301.

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Bacchis knows that a senex will make certain assumptions about a meretrix, a fear that is not unfounded given the inherited literary topoi regarding these characters. Young men

(adulescentes) in comedy must use their fathers’ money, often obtained by deceit, to fund their love affairs with meretrices.247 In Plautus’ Bacchides, discussed in Chapter 4, the two senes blame their sons’ amicae (the meretrices of the title) for ruining them financially (1114-15) and confront them angrily (1117-19). The Bacchis of Terence’s Hecyra expects a similar treatment, but Terence has created characters that are unusual in many respects: Laches is cautious, too, because he knows that offending Bacchis will not help him achieve his goal (729-31). The two agree to listen to each other without prejudice, and Laches shares Myrrhina’s accusation that

Bacchis is the cause of the separation of the young couple. Bacchis, eager to prove her moral worth and encouraged by Laches’ open mindedness, gives her word that she has not seen

Pamphilus since he married and offers to do whatever it takes to convince Laches of this fact

(750-52), including offering her slaves to be tortured for their evidence (774).248

The solution that Laches offers is for Bacchis to go to Philumena directly and explain that she is no longer seeing Pamphilus:

eas ad mulieres huc intro atque istuc iusiurandum idem polliceare illis. exple animum is teque hoc crimine expedi. (754-55)

[I would have you] go to the women inside here and promise to swear this same oath to them. Relieve their minds and clear yourself of this accusation

While Bacchis was nervous about confronting Laches, who is Pamphilus’ father and bank-roller, the idea of visiting her former lover’s legitimate wife is unheard of:

247 Cf. Plautus’ Mostellaria, which follows the exploits of the adulescens Philolaches as he tries to hide his expenditures on a courtesan from his father. 248 To refuse to offer her slaves for torture is tantamount to an admission of guilt in Athenian law. See MacDowell 1978: 245 and Harrison 1998: 170.

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faciam quod pol, si esset alia ex hoc quaestu, haud faceret, scio, ut de tali causa nuptae mulieri se ostenderet. sed nolo esse falsa fama gnatum suspectum tuom, nec leviorem vobis, quibus est minime aequom, eum viderier inmerito; nam meritus de me est quod queam illi ut commodem. (756-60)

I will do it, by Pollux, even though I know that no other woman from my profession would do it, would show herself to the lawfully wedded wife for such a purpose. But I do not wish your son to be suspected of a false accusation, nor to seem, undeservedly, rather capricious to you, in whose eyes it is most unfair for him to appear as such; for he deserves from me that I do whatever I can for him.

Again Terence draws our attention to the conventional expectations, which he then thwarts: meretrices do not, as a rule, visit the wives of their lovers. Bacchis, however, is willing to do something that is socially taboo in order to save her former lover from an undeserved reputation.

She worries about standing out for her unusual behavior, about being socially different:

haec res hic agitur: Pamphilo me facere ut redeat uxor oportet: quod si perficio non paenitet me famae, solam fecisse id quod aliae meretrices facere fugitant. (774-76)

This is what is to be done: I need to make Pamphilus’ wife return to him. But if I succeed, I will not regret the reputation that I was the only person to do a thing that other meretrices go out of their way to avoid.

She is the only one of her profession who is willing to do visit the citizen wife. She acknowledges that such unconventional behavior will be talked about (fama), drawing attention to her in a negative way, but she is willing to eschew social norms if it helps Pamphilus. The meretrix Syra in the Cistellaria, discussed in Chapter 4, presents citizen wives and meretrices as sworn enemies (Cist. 22-41). Wives speak ill of meretrices, she says, because meretrices have designs on their husbands:

eas si adeas, abitum quam aditum malis, ita nostro ordini palam blandiuntur, clam, si occasio usquam est, aquam frigidam subdole suffundunt. viris cum suis praedicant nos solere, suas paelices esse aiunt, eunt depressum. (Cist. 33-37)

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If you go to [the matrones], you would rather turn around and leave than go inside, such are the blandishments they heap up on our class in the open, but secretly, if the occasion ever arises, they cunningly pour cold water on us. They assert that we have relations with their husbands and they say that we are their concubines. They work to keep us down.

This quotation gives us both the cause of the tension, and the affect that that tension has on an encounter between a matrona and a meretrix. Line 36 indicates jealousy and resentment on the part of citizen wives towards prostitutes. While laws and customs prevent a citizen woman from sleeping with anyone other than her husband, no laws prevent a married man from sleeping with a prostitute, and there is only limited cultural censure attached to such activities: as long as he does not squander his resources or display other signs of excess, he will not be rebuked for his behavior by male friends; he might, in fact, be encouraged and applauded. A second cause for resentment is indicated with the word paelices (37): citizen women fear they may be replaced by a concubine. Once a man has grown heirs, his desire for a female companion and housekeeper can be met equally well by a concubine or wife.249 Since citizen wives have no legal means of protection or retaliation, their chief means of recrimination is, as Syra suggests, verbal and social, namely through rebuke. Furthermore, they seem to gang up on their social inferiors, closing ranks to thoroughly intimidate courtesans and make them feel like lesser human beings.

This is what Bacchis faces when she agrees to speak with Philumena. This is why few courtesans are willing to do it. Syra’s speech represents the comic conventions regarding the relationship between meretrix and matrona, but in that play, as in the Hecyra, the characters do not live up to the stereotypes. Syra’s speech, like Bacchis’ lines, creates suspense for the audience, who witness Bacchis’ fear and share the expectation that the encounter will be very unpleasant for her.

249 Although it is legally possible for a husband to dismiss his established wife, mother of his heir, in favor of a concubine, it is socially unacceptable and therefore rare (see above, note 234). Nonetheless, a matrona might fear a concubine, since fear is rarely a factor of logical probability.

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The power of such social censure is not to be underestimated. Except, of course, by

Laches. After she leaves the stage, Laches gives a little speech in which he seriously misunderstands Bacchis’ situation:

quid est quod mihi malim quam quod huic intellego evenire, ut gratiam ineat sine suo dispendio et mihi prosit? nam si est ut haec nunc Pamphilum vere ab se segregarit, scit sibi nobilitatem ex eo et rem natam et gloriam esse: referet gratiam ei unaque nos sibi opera amicos iunget. (794-99)

What could be better than to have things turn out as I understand they are going to, that [Bacchis] will gain my gratitude at no cost to herself and at a profit to me? For if it is as she said just now, that she has truly kept Pamphilus away from herself, she knows that there will arise renown, fortune, and glory for herself on account of that. She will gain his gratitude and at the same time she will secure us as friends on account of her deed.

His first error is believing that a confrontation will cost her nothing (sine suo dispendio), when she has already made it clear that it will cost her a great deal. Laches overlooks the social risks undertaken when a marginal member of a society confronts someone of a privileged class and has the audacity to both bring up a taboo subject and contradict the narrative of the privileged class. His second error is that he completely misrepresents Bacchis’ motivation by projecting his own interpretation of events onto her: she knows (scit), he says, that her actions will be rewarded with Pamphilus’ gratitude, Laches’ friendship, and positive acclaim. If she knows this, she has not indicated any such thing; this is Laches’ opinion.250 Bacchis has indicated several times that she is motivated by her affection for Pamphilus, which compels her to do whatever she can to bring about his happiness. It is for his wellbeing, not her own, that she is willing to face the unpleasant task of meeting with Philumena.

250 Carney 1963: ad 797-98 argues that this is a direct reference to the Scipionic code of virtus, whereby one wins gloria through facta performed under the proper code of conduct. However, the charge of self-interest (that a courtesan will do a citizen a favor in order to earn her freedom) is seen even in Menander, e.g. Epitrepontes 538-40.

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Terence adds an unusual element to Bacchis’ reluctance. She is not only afraid of social censure, she is also ashamed: perii, pudet Philumenae. (“I’m a goner. I’m ashamed before

Philumena,” 793). One can fear social censure without having done anything to deserve it, for such judgments can certainly be unfair. Bacchis, however, seems to think she has actively done something worth being ashamed of. Athenians did not deem prostitutes to be inherently immoral, and they viewed a free hetaira selling her own body much as they would any other self- employed businessperson selling his wares.251 Thus Bacchis cannot be ashamed simply of the fact that she is a prostitute; she must be ashamed of something she has done. She took pains to end her relationship with Pamphilus as soon as he married, although she still felt great affection for him. She did not elicit a few last payments from him, although she could have. Perhaps because she loved Pamphilus, she felt it was not right to continue the affair after his wedding.

And although they were no longer having sexual relations, Pamphilus continued to pay visits to

Bacchis (157-59), because Pamphilus had a difficult time getting over his love for her and an even more difficult time transferring his affections to his new wife. Perhaps it is for these reasons, then, that Bacchis is ashamed before Philumena. Although unusual for a woman of her profession, she believes it is not right to continue a relationship with a married man, and is embarrassed that she continued to hold Pamphilus’ affection after his marriage, even though it was not her fault. She says:

eo, etsi scio pol is fore meum conspectum invisum hodie. nam nupta meretrici hostis est, a viro ubi segregatast. (788-89)

I will go, even if I know, by Pollux, that the sight of me today will be hateful to them. For a married woman is hostile to a courtesan, especially when she is separated from her husband.

251 Cohen 2006: 99-101.

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While married women dislike courtesans in general, Bacchis knows she will be particularly unwelcome because Philumena and her husband are having marital problems, and Bacchis fears she is somehow to blame for this.

Bacchis succeeds in mending the marriage in an unexpected way: by means of a token that Bacchis had, Philumena realizes that Pamphilus is the man who raped her and so the father of her child. Bacchis is genuinely happy to be the cause of such great fortune for Pamphilus

(816-20), since it was he that she wanted to help the most:

haec tot propter me gaudia illi contigisse laetor: etsi hoc meretrices aliae nolunt; neque enim est in rem nostram ut quisquam amator nuptiis laetetur. verum ecastor numquam animum quaesti gratia ad malas adducam partis. ego dum illo licitumst usa sum benigno et lepido et comi. incommode mihi nuptiis evenit, factum fateor: at pol me fecisse arbitror ne id merito mi eveniret. multa ex quo fuerint commoda, eius incommoda aequomst ferre. (833-840)

I am glad that such great joy has come to him on account of me, even if other meretrices would not wish for these things; for it is not in our best interest for any lover to be happily married. But, by Castor, I never let my thoughts stray into malicious territory on account of profit. I, while it was permitted, enjoyed him and his kindness, charm, and good looks. It was inconvenient for me when he got married, I confess: but by Pollux, I think that I acted in such a way that I did not deserve the inconvenience. When something gives you many conveniences, it is only fair to endure some inconvenience.

She wants Pamphilus to be happy because he made her happy in the past. She acknowledges that a successful marriage is directly at odds with the courtesan business, but it is more important to her to behave honorably. She stresses that she never had “evil things” (mala) in her heart or mind, and that she has done nothing to deserve the inconveniences she suffered as a result of her marriage. She distinguishes herself from other courtesans, who suffer inconvenience as retribution for selfish or mercenary behavior. She stresses that she always put his wishes before her own. She holds herself to a high standard of ethics, desiring to always be charitable both in

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her actions and in her thoughts. Furthermore, she is satisfied if she adheres to this code no matter what others think of her and even if no one knows what she has done.

Because this is New Comedy, where things are often designed to work out neatly, there are many positive consequences of Bacchis’ decision to take the social risk of visiting

Philumena. She does win all of the favors that Laches foretold, and the friendship of a citizen family does include many practical perks. But there is one consequence that no one anticipated:

Bacchis discovers that she likes Philumena:

{BA} recte amasti, Pamphile, uxorem tuam; nam numquam ante hunc diem meis oculis eam, quod nossem, videram: perliberalis visast. {PA} dic verum. {BA} ita me di ament, Pamphile. (862-64)

{BA} You were right in loving your wife, Pamphilus; for I had never before today laid eyes on her, as you know: she seems to be quite the lady.252 {PA} Say you mean it! {BA} I really do, Pamphilus.

Bacchis was not in the position to have an informed opinion about Philumena at the beginning of the play, nor was Philumena in a position to have an informed opinion about Bacchis, since the two had never even met. Now that they have, however, Bacchis decides that Pamphilus has done well in his marriage and even compliments his new wife. Pamphilus is eager to confirm that his old lover actually approves of his marriage and his bride, and she gives him the confirmation that he seeks. Bacchis took the risk, approached someone she was not supposed to approach, and discovered that, if they put prejudice aside and take the time to have a real conversation, matronae and meretrices can actually be friendly towards one another – I will not go so far as to say friends.

252 Carney 1963: ad 864 says perliberalis “denotes the ease and grace of manner that distinguishes a free person in contrast with the vulgarity of a slave.”

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iv. Philumena’s Choice

Poor Philumena gets no lines and no stage time, but is central to the plot and many of the relationships that are investigated in the play. From the title, Hecyra, we know that the play will examine the relationship between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. An early conversation between Laches and Phidippus indicates the cultural expectation that a mother will be at odds with her son’s wife, and the withdrawal of Philumena to her birth home demonstrates that she is not confiding in her mother-in-law. When Philumena found herself pregnant by someone other than her husband, or so she thought, she assumed that no one in her husband’s house would take this news well. She may have been right, too: a young bride’s value to her husband’s family is tied to her chastity. It is reasonable to assume that Sostrata would share the news of the pregnancy with Laches, who would attempt to end the marriage. In Chapter 2, I argued that a marriage creates the opportunity for the women of two households to become friends, but

Sostrata does not yet appear to have a bond with her in-laws. The two families have only been connected by marriage for a few months, and the marriage has not produced the male heir that often cements such an alliance. Although Laches and Phidippus are friends, Sostrata and

Myrrhina do not appear to play any sizeable role in each other’s lives. In sum, there is no evidence for bonds of affection between the women of the two households. When Philumena finds herself pregnant, she has no reason to expect support from Sostrata, and no reason to expect that Sostrata would be willing to keep her secret.

Philumena’s choice, then, is really a lack of choice: she believes that the only option is to withdraw to her mother’s. There she becomes utterly dependent upon the women of her own household– her mother and handmaids – to keep her secret. Because of their affection and loyalty, they are the only people willing to make Philumena’s happiness the highest priority.

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Philumena never gave her mother-in-law the chance to prove her trustworthiness, since it was too risky to even approach her.

There is much ado about Philumena’s relationship with Bacchis, who is supposed to be her sworn enemy. Several of the characters (Myrrhina, Laches, Phidippus) assume that Bacchis will be a problem for Philumena and that a new bride would resent her husband’s lover. They manufacture a great rivalry between meretrix and nupta that lasts almost the entire duration of the play, but in the end we discover that Bacchis was never a threat. The social conventions that keep meretrices and matrones apart allow the theory of the rivalry to persist, since no one ever bothers to ask Philumena whether Bacchis is really the problem (to Phidippus’ credit, Myrrhina blames Bacchis for the separation, and Phidippus is guilty only of believing his wife without seeking further confirmation from his daughter). Bacchis, as I demonstrated above, was certainly aware of possible tension and on that account was reluctant to meet Philumena, but Philumena always knew that Bacchis had nothing to do with her current dilemma. It was only a socially prescribed rivalry; when the two women actually meet, they discover that they are not enemies at all. In fact, the encounter has a positive outcome, bringing happiness to both women. v. Summary

In this rich play, Terence gives three women the opportunity to discuss their decision- making processes on stage: Sostrata, Myrrhina, and Bacchis. The play investigates several kinds of relationships that we have seen in other comedies, but with new attention to analyzing the women’s motivations and ethical stance. We have looked at several mother-daughter pairs thus far, but none in which both mother and daughter were citizens. Myrrhina indicates that it is of the utmost importance for her to protect her daughter, regardless of how her decisions affect other people, including herself. Her goals for her daughter are more explicitly stated than those of the

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courtesan Melaenis towards her adopted daughter Selenium in the Cistellaria, but the fervor with which she devotes herself to her daughter’s wellbeing is similar to that of Cleareta in the

Asinaria. Sostrata, meanwhile, is concerned largely with her own reputation, and explains at length that for a woman in old age, access to a female network of social support is of less importance. Unlike the neighboring women of the Casina, Sostrata and Myrrhina have no established friendship. Bacchis, finally, is the quintessential hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold because she actually loves her lover in return, and is willing to make personal sacrifices to ensure his happiness. This is the fantasy that adulescentes of New Comedy dream about. While the motives of courtesans who interact with citizen women in other plays are often ambiguous and complicated, Terence has taken pains to be quite clear regarding Bacchis.

Each woman is willing to personally risk her security in order to do what is “right” by varying degrees and definitions: Sostrata does what is necessary to ensure the success of her son’s marriage, but for selfish reasons disguised in noble ones; Myrrhina does the right thing for her daughter, but does not worry if she unfairly harms the reputation of anyone else; only

Bacchis does the right thing because it is right, deciding that she cannot remain idle if she has it in her power to help Pamphilus, whom she deems a to be a good man and deserving of her affection. Their ethical deliberations highlight the social realities with which they are faced:

Myrrhina must choose between her identity as wife and mother, and Sostrata between her identity as a member of an oikos and member of a community; Bacchis, meanwhile, is treated by others as a hetaira but makes decisions based on her identity as a young girl in love, who wants to be respected by other women and men. In all, they are complex characters who cannot be contained by the limited social roles to which their other characters assign them.

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D. Menander’s Epitrepontes: A Courtesan Meets her Lover’s Wife

It is difficult to overlook the similarities in plot between Terence’s Hecyra and

Menander’s Epitrepontes. For a time, scholars assumed that Terence had been directly influenced by the Epitrepontes, but this was due largely to the excitement of rediscovering the

Menandrian play in the early twentieth century, while the Hecyra of Apollodorus, the true model for Terence’s play, remained lost.253 In both Terence’s play and the Epitrepontes, a man withdraws from his new wife because she has given birth to an illegitimate child, the offspring of a rape perpetrated before the marriage. The woman’s legal husband is discovered to be the father of the baby by means of tokens. In both plays, the families believe that the estrangement is due to the young man’s love of a courtesan, who eventually brings about the recognition and reconciliation. The Hecyra focused on the men’s prejudices against mothers-in-law, allowing us to examine the relationships of mothers with their children and their children-in-law. The

Epitrepontes, by contrast, is more concerned with the relationship troubles of the young man,

Charisios, and the dispute between slaves over the baby, which turns out to be Charisios’ son.

When Charisios discovers that his wife has given birth, he moves in with his friend next door,

Chairestratos, and takes up with the courtesan, Habrotonon. Because this play, unlike the

Hecyra, is focused on Charisios’ relationships, we see more of the estranged wife, Pamphile, whose father pressures her to divorce. Habrotonon takes a significantly more proactive role in reconciling the lovers than Bacchis of the Hecyra did. In this section, I will examine

Habrotonon’s decision to pose as the mother of the foundling, Pamphile’s internal-struggle, and the relationship between the two women.

253 Ireland 1990: 13. Although Epitrepontes is not the direct model for Terence’s Hecyra, Capps 1981: 42 concludes that Apollodorus’ Hecyra was influenced by the Epitrepontes.

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The Epitrepontes is fragmentary and a substantial portion of the beginning is lost, including a probable explanatory prologue,254 but we can reconstruct the back-story from how the play unfolds. Charisios raped Pamphile at the Tauropoleia four months before their wedding, but neither was aware of the other’s identity. In the struggle, Pamphile ended up with Charisios’ ring, a token by which the rapist is later identified. Habrotonon had been the music-player at the festival, and she saw Pamphile just after the rape. She never knew Pamphile’s name nor saw her again after that night, and so does not know that her lover’s wife is the same girl, but she would be able to recognize Pamphile if she saw her again. Pamphile abandoned the baby with tokens, including Charisios’ ring, after which the baby was adopted by a slave.

In the course of the play, Charisios’ own slave, Onesimos, recognizes the ring as that of his master and shares that knowledge with Habrotonon, who immediately objects that Charisios’ baby is being raised by a slave (468-79).255 Her interest in the baby is hard to pin down, but her affection for Charisios is indicated by her prior actions: after suffering the rebukes of Charisios’ father-in-law, who is upset about his daughter’s marital problems, Habrotonon takes care to warn

Charisios that his angry father-in-law has arrived (164). She later expresses disappointment that

Charisios, who left his wife and hired Habrotonon two days prior, is ignoring her, both socially and sexually.256 When she first decides to take the baby, she is thinking of Charisios: she believes she would recognize the girl who was raped at the Tauropoleia (484), and states that, if the mother is freeborn, this would benefit Charisios:

ἐὰν δὲ νοῦν ἔχηις ἐμοί τε πείθηι, τοῦτο πρὸς τὸν δεσπότην

254 Most scholars assume that the delayed prologue was spoken by a divinity, since no human character in the play knew all of the essential facts that are usually dispensed to the audience at the start of New Comedy. See Arnott 1979: 387-88; Martina 1997: 29-41; Furley 2009: 8-10. 255 Text and line numbers for Epitrepontes are from Furley 2009. 256 Furley 2009 ad 432 notes that prostitutes do not ordinarily care whether their customers show them affection, as long as they pay, which Charisios is.

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φανερὸν ποήσεις· εἰ γάρ ἐστ’ ἐλευθέρας παιδός, τί τοῦτον λανθάνειν δεῖ τὸ γεγονός; (493-96)

If you were wise and followed my advise, you would make this [situation] clear to your master. For if the mother is freeborn, why should we hide the birth?

She understands that the baby (a boy, of course) could be good for Charisios: since he has not yet produced a child with his new wife, that marriage could easily be dissolved so that Charisios could marry the freeborn mother of his child. Since the production of a male heir is one of the most important goals of a marriage, no one would be surprised if Charisios opted to leave a currently childless marriage in favor of a sure thing.257 These are the hints that she feels genuine affection for Charisios and desires to help him, but the evidence is not nearly as strong as it is with Bacchis in Terence’s Hecyra, and the evidence is by no means unambiguous.

Onesimos asks Habrotonon to first help him find out who the mother is, before informing

Charisios – he previously expressed a fear that the news of a baby would be unwelcome to

Charisios (450), and Onesimos does not want to be the bearer of bad news. To him, confronting

Charisios is risky, but verifying the mother first decreases that risk. To Habrotonon, it is the opposite: she is able to identify the mother, but she is only willing to confront a citizen woman if she is absolutely certain who the father is. For this reason, she wants to first verify that the raped girl took the ring directly from Charisios, not from a third party (for example, someone to whom

Charisios had lost the ring in a gamble 502-7). She expresses her hesitation to approach the women for whom she played music at the Tauropoleia:

οὐκ ἂν δυναίμην, τὸν ἀδικοῦντα πρὶν σ[αφῶς τίς ἐστιν εἰδέναι. φοβοῦμαι τοῦτ’ ἐγ[ώ, μάτην τι μηνύειν πρὸς ἐκείνας ἃς λ[έγω. (499‑501) …

257 In the event of a divorce, Charisios’ father loses social ties to Pamphile’s family, but, unlike in some New Comedies, there is no indication that the two patriarchs have an especially strong friendship which they desire to cement through marriage; we can assume that there are other, equally advantageous links.

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πρὶν εἰδέναι δὲ τὸν ἀδικοῦντ’ οὐ βούλομαι ζητεῖν ἐκείνην οὐδὲ μηνύειν ἐγὼ τοιοῦτον οὐδέν. (508-10)

I would not be able [to help you, Onesimos], not until I knew [for sure] the identity of the person who committed the injustice.258 I am afraid of this: giving information at random to those women whom I am speaking of. … Before I know who committed the injustice, I do not want to look for the girl nor reveal anything at all.

Habrotonon understands that her information would be detrimental to the girl, who may already be married to someone else. She has kept the rape a secret since she witnessed it at the

Tauropoleia, and now she hesitates to reveal it to “those women” (ἐκείνας) unless she can be sure the baby belongs to Charisios. Perhaps she wishes to protect the girl, having decided that it is not right to risk her reputation without at least the possibility of a happy ending (for Charisios appears to be eligible for re-marriage). Perhaps, too, Habrotonon worries that the citizen women will treat her with suspicion and assume she has sinister motives. Unfortunately, she is aware that her social superiors are likely to assume the worst of her. Pamphile’s father, Smikrines, treated her quite disrespectfully, probably while blaming her for the marital problems between his daughter and Charisios (the text is fragmentary): οὐκ ἐς κόρακας; οἰμώξει μακρά (“Go to hell! You’ll be very sorry for this!” 160). At the time of the Tauropoleia, she says she “did not yet know men” (479), and she mingled comfortably with the citizen girls as their music-player.

Now, however, she is an active hetaira and a threat to young citizen women: the money that she earns from married men would otherwise be used to support their wives (the very fear that

Smikrines expresses to Pamphile at 749-55), and she has the power to capture the affections of their husbands. She has already experienced the prejudice of Smikrines, and anticipates prejudice from the women: she is not willing to approach them unless she can be certain that the encounter will work to everyone’s advantage: hers, the girl’s, and Charisios’.

258 I.e., the rape.

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While Habrotonon’s own actions and words do not suggest selfish motives, Onesimos assumes them, and she does not entirely deny it. In order to discover if Charisios is indeed the father, she proposes that she pretend to be the mother of the baby, presenting herself as the girl who was raped. Onesimos undercuts her, saying she has “omitted” (οὐ λέγεις, 538) an important fact, that this scheme could earn her freedom (539). In saying she deliberately omitted it, he presupposes that it was on her mind, of which there is no indication. Habrotonon responds to this suggestion hesitantly, as if she had not yet thought about it: οὒκ οἶδα· βουλοίμην δ’ ἄν (“I don’t know. It is what I would like,” 541). Onesimos does not believe her, and begins to wonder whether she simply plans to keep the baby and use it to secure the lasting support of Charisios

(544-46). Habrotonon responds that she definitely does not want a baby, just her freedom, which she hopes to win as a reward for this scheme (546-49).259 Onesimos now hesitates, because he realizes that the plan carries a certain risk to his mistress, Pamphile, which could bring punishment to him: if the baby belongs to Charisios and a different citizen woman, Charisios will most likely divorce Pamphile to marry the mother of son, thereby making that son his legitimate heir (565-71). Habrotonon must know this, too (recall her comment, “If the mother is freeborn, why keep him in the dark?”). Her motives at this point are very confusing, perhaps intentionally so, since the audience experiences more suspense if they cannot predict her actions.260 She appears to want to help Charisios and herself, and possibly whoever was raped at the

Tauropoleia, but not Pamphile, whom Charisios might divorce when the mother is discovered

(although it appears he might divorce her anyway), and she may be intentionally misleading

259 Traill 2008: 203 argues that “[t]he scheme for freedom is largely a product of Onesimos’ envy,” demonstrating that he has consistently attributed his own motivations to Habrotonon throughout the scene. 260 See Traill 2008: 224 for a summary of the scholarly interpretations of Habrotonon’s motives. Traill argues that the diversity of scholarly opinions reflects directly upon Menander’s deliberate ambiguity as to her character.

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Onesimos, since the two appear to be rivals for citizen gratitude in this whole affair. It is clear, however, that Onesimos and Smikrines assume the worst of her, and their onstage recriminations set up an audience expectation regarding her behavior, an expectation that will of course be thwarted.

Meanwhile, Smikrines tries to remove Pamphile from her marriage on account of the moral shortcomings of her husband.261 When she objects (714-15), Smikrines explains in detail why Habrotonon’s presence is harmful to her. He says he will give three reasons (720), but unfortunately the text is in rather poor condition, with about twenty-three lines missing.262 In the extant text, he makes a financial argument: by supporting a courtesan, Charisios will have to spend twice as much money (749-51). He also makes an emotional argument: Charisios will neglect his husbandly duties to spend time with Habrotonon, and Pamphile will feel abandoned

(752-56). Pamphile counters, in what Arnott calls “one of the finest defences of marital loyalty extant in ancient Greek.”263 Her ethical position is analyzed at length by Traill: while Smikrines offers practical, financial, and emotional arguments, Pamphile cannot refute his points without revealing that her husband left her because of the bastard child (nothos) which she birthed.

Therefore, her strategy is to rely on moral arguments: she tells her father that her decision is not a matter of prudence, but what is right. She emphasizes the role of fate, suggesting that

Smikrines does not have the power to ensure a good marriage for her; she downplays Charisios’ indiscretions with Habrotonon; and she states that it is a wife’s duty to remain with her husband even in hard times.264 Her arguments are familiar from the resisting-daughter topos, discussed in the section on the Stichus, above. She is unusually articulate, a necessity if she is to be a worthy

261 Smikrines’ “rampage” is analyzed by Furley 2009: 198-209. 262 For a summary of the sources for this play, see Furley 2009: 31-35. 263 Arnott 2004a: 277. 264 Traill 2008: 205-23.

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opponent to Smikrines in this debate.265 Pamphile’s behavior is not quite what her husband or father expects, because she does not identify with the social roles that they project onto her: both believe she will leave voluntarily, her husband because she is a shamed bride, and her father because she is an obedient daughter.266 Instead, she plays the role of a faithful wife, as if diligently honoring a husband who is unwillingly absent, like Penelope to Odysseus.

In his argument, Smikrines vilifies Habrotonon, not unexpectedly. His views regarding enmity between citizen wives and courtesans, especially the ones that are involved with their husbands, are conventional. He says:

χαλεπόν, Παμ[φίλη, ἑλευθέραι γυναικὶ πρὸς πόρνην μάχη. πλείονα πανουργεῖ, πλείον’ οἶδ’, αἰσχύνεται οὐδεν, κολακεύει μᾶλλον, αἰσχρῶν [ἅπτεται.] (793-96)

It is difficult, Pamphile, for a free woman to compete with a whore: she pulls off more evil tricks, knows more, is entirely shameless, is better at flattering, and undertakes shameful things.

His attack on Habrotonon is strategic, an effort to exculpate Charisios and make him appear the victim. He is “trying to stir up his daughter’s anger against a woman he assumes she hates, unlike her husband, whom she might conceivably forgive.”267 As in the Hecyra and Cistellaria,

Pamphile and Habrotonon face a socially prescribed rivalry: their needs are at odds, and a long cultural history might lead each to believe that other has innately despicable morals. Such are the obstacles, then, that impede any sort of positive relationship between Pamphile and Habrotonon.

New Comedy often puts a twist on relationships, and in this particular play, unusual circumstances mean that it is actually to the advantage of Pamphile and Habrotonon to meet and collaborate, although neither is fully aware of those circumstances. Habrotonon understands that

265 Furley 2009: 218. 266 Traill 2008: 223. 267 Traill 2008: 200.

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she must approach a citizen woman in order to achieve her aims; Pamphile is in the dark and distraught (her eyes are “burnt with weeping”268). Furley captures the emotional intensity of the scene: “Menander took matters to the brink. Pamphile felt deserted by her husband and her father, who, presumably, had given her an ultimatum to leave her husband. Then the downward trend of the action is turned around by the fortuitous meeting of Charisios’ two women.”269 Their meeting occurs as follows: having identified Charisios securely as the father of the baby,

Habrotonon sets out to find the mother. She steps outside and immediately spots Pamphile in the doorway of the neighboring house, recognizing her as the girl who was raped at the Tauropoleia.

She does not know Pamphile’s name, but she suspects that Pamphile is Charisios’ wife, since

Pamphile is standing in Charisios’ doorway (a short time later, she says, ἀλλ’] οὐ σε τὴν

νύμφην ὁρῶ | τὴν ἔνδον οὖσαν; “Aren’t you his wife, from inside [that house]?” 872-73).

Knowing Pamphile’s true identity, there is significant social risk in approaching her. As

Smikrines has pointed out, Habrotonon is paid with money that would otherwise go towards the maintenance of Charisios’ marital household. She has every reason to suspect that she will not be well received, which is part of the reason why she wanted a solid story before approaching the baby’s mother. In gathering the courage to approach Pamphile, Habrotonon may draw some social comfort from the fact that they are age-mates and once participated in the same religious and social gathering. Furthermore, Pamphile is alone: Habrotonon said she was afraid to approach “those women” (ἐκείνας, 501) with an uncertain story; now she is approaching a solitary individual with a definite story (and possibly good news, depending on whether you believe it is good news that a rape victim gets to marry her rapist and thereby achieve social

268 ἐξετύφην μὲν οὖν κλαίουσ’ ὅλως (Koerte and Thierfelder 1957: v. 1, p. 34), which is thought by most to be from this play, spoken by Pamphile after her father leaves the stage. 269 Furley 2009: 209.

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stability). Pamphile, meanwhile, has no idea who Habrotonon is, although she can probably conclude that Habrotonon is a courtesan from her dress,270 and the fact that she is out in the street without an escort (whereas Pamphile, the good citizen girl, is standing in her doorway).

Habrotonon acts quickly, lest Pamphile misinterpret her reasons for approaching: she has not come as a rival, but as a collaborator. She hails Pamphile, who hesitates, asking, “τί[ς δ’ εἶ]

σύ;” (“Who are you?” 861). Encountering suspicion already, Habrotonon extends a hand as a peace offering (χεῖρα δεῦρό μοι τὴν σὴν δίδου. “Give me your hand,” 861), and tries to confirm that Pamphile is indeed the girl whom she saw at the Tauropoleia (862-63). She has kept the baby prominently displayed, however, and Pamphile changes the topic of conversation to the baby’s origins (866-67). Habrotonon makes a concerted effort to reassure Pamphile while controlling the conversation so that Pamphile does not have time to flee or become hostile. She says:

[Ἁβ] ὁρᾶις τι, φιλτάτη, σοι γνώριμον ὧν] τοῦτ’ ἔχει; μηδέν με δείσηις, ὦ γύναι. [Πα] οὐκ ἔτεκες αὐτὴ τοῦτο; [Ἁβ] προσεποιησάμην, οὐχ ἵν’ ἀδικήσω τὴν τεκοῦσαν, ἀλλ’ ἵνα κατὰ σχολὴν εὕροιμι. νῦν δ’ εὕρηκα· σὲ ὁρῶ γάρ, ἣν καὶ τότε. (865- 70)

{HA} Do you see something, dearest one, that you recognize? Some of these things it has? You should not be afraid of me, woman. {PA} But didn’t you yourself give birth to this child? {HA} I was pretending, not to do an injustice to the mother, but so that I might have the time to find her. Now I have found her: for I am now looking at you, and you are the one whom I saw then.

Pamphile needs Habrotonon for vital information: her future depends on what the courtesan says.

For this reason Pamphile does not bother with introductions and social formalities, but gets right

270 Olson 2006: 192-200 examines the evidence regarding the different visual cues differentiating matronae and meretrices.

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to the point by asking who the baby’s father is. Habrotonon reveals that it is Charisios and asks,

“Aren’t you his wife?” (872). Once Pamphile says yes, both women are in possession of all of the information and able to become fully cooperating allies. Habrotonon hears someone coming from the house next door (it could be Charisios, for all she knows), and quickly asks to be invited inside, to which Pamphile readily agrees. The two women now have the same goal: reuniting husband and wife with the news of the legitimate heir.

As with the Hecyra, the playwright creates suspense by constructing a plot in which two women must defy expectations in order for the adulescens to achieve social success. In both plays, the courtesan is willing to take the risk of confronting her former lover’s wife, but where

Menander makes Habrotonon’s motives ambiguous, Terence (or perhaps Apollodorus) repeatedly emphasizes that Bacchis acts selflessly. In both plays, the disgraced and estranged wife has little to lose by receiving the courtesan. We only see this encounter directly in the

Epitrepontes, and it is clear that Pamphile receives Habrotonon out of desperation, but the meeting is mitigated by Habrotonon’s successful presentation of herself as non-threatening. In each play, it takes a woman of low status but a great deal of practical freedom to bring security to a woman of comparatively high status. It is only because the Habrotonon is free to go out in public and strike up conversations with many people that she is able to uncover the identity of the baby and rescue Pamphile from a desperate situation (perhaps inadvertently, if Habrotonon’s true goal was to rescue Charisios from his undesirable situation). In turn, each of the courtesans is rewarded with the patronage of a high-status citizen male – a convention of New Comedy.271

271 Habrotonon does not receive any reward in the extant lines of the play, but it is highly probable that this occurred in the now lost ending. It is the outcome that the audience has been expecting ever since Onesimos suggested it and Habrotonon proved worthy of it. It would follow naturally from the scene in Act 4 wherein Habrotonon shares the good news with Charisios and he openly expresses his joy.

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The citizen wife needs the courtesan to clear her name, and the courtesan needs the citizen wife

(and through her the citizen male) to achieve financial security. Thus we are left with a bizarre sort of symbiotic relationship, in which the courtesan and the freeborn wife are dependent upon each other to achieve social stability.

While Bacchis has a decidedly noble character in the Hecyra, and the young bride is never seen nor heard from, it is Pamphile in the Epitrepontes who has the most impeccable morals. In fact, her upstanding character is the inspiration for her husband, Charisios, to acknowledge that he treated her unfairly and to feel remorse at his own cruelty. The young husband of the Hecyra feels no such regret, and in fact never suffers for his immoral behavior.

He even manages to keep his role in the rape a secret from his father and avoid chastisement.

While Menander’s play presents an upstanding young citizen woman who is a moral role model for a young citizen male, Terence (and possibly Apollodorus?) presents a scenario in which only the courtesan can be said to have unimpeachable character (at least, of those characters who appear on stage), and she thoroughly puts the citizen men to shame.

E. Menander’s Samia: The Concubine Next Door

I end with the Samia because it introduces a new type of character to my dissertation, the pallake. There are some similarities in plot to the Epitrepontes: a citizen girl (Plangon) has recently given birth and a courtesan (Chrysis) pretends to be the mother. Like the Hecyra,

Plangon’s mother makes every effort to protect her daughter’s secret. Unlike these two plays, the courtesan of Samia is not involved with the father of the baby (although such a relationship is at one point suspected), but more significantly, the three women – Chrysis, Plangon, and her mother – have lived next door to each other for some time and have a well-established

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friendship. In this play, I will examine how they rely on each other to protect Plangon’s secret and themselves.

I provide a short background to illustrate the relationship between the two households of which the women are members: the first is headed by the affluent Demeas, and the second by the much poorer Nikeratos. Demeas lives with his pallake Chrysis, a former hetaira who has taken up permanent dwelling with Demeas, and his adopted son, Moschion.272 Nine months prior to the start of the play, Moschion impregnated Nikeratos’ unmarried daughter, Plangon. Moschion promised Plangon and her mother that he would marry Plangon, but out of fear and shame he told neither of the fathers. As I described in Chapter 2, Moschion informs us in his introductory monologue that the Chrysis, Plangon, and Plangon’s (unnamed) mother have a long-standing friendship and often spend time at each other’s houses (35-38).273 When the play begins, Plangon has just given birth to the baby. During the course of the play, Chrysis agrees to pose as mother of the baby in order to protect the secret of Moschion and Plangon. This causes social difficulties for Chrysis, but she receives help and support from Plangon and her mother. It also sets off a chain of misunderstandings that require the characters to constantly reassess and make new decisions.

Let us first examine the decision made by Chrysis to pose as mother of the baby. In order to understand the magnitude of the risks involved, we must understand what precisely she has

272 Traill 2008: 156 states that Chrysis, as a hetaira would have been treated with contempt by the community, but Gomme and Sandbach 1973: 30 explains that pallakai were not looked down upon by citizen women in the way that hetairai were, because pallakai rarely compete with citizen wives. Fantham 1975: 50 elaborates that a man might take a concubine if his wife has died and his son is grown (as is the case with Demeas), because such a relationship provides him with the companionship of a woman and her practical help around the household, but cannot produce a legitimate son to compete with the living heir. 273 Text and line numbers for Samia are from Sandbach 1972.

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agreed to do. Unfortunately, the fragmentary nature of the text somewhat complicates the details surrounding her decision:

{ΜΟ} ἀπὸ ταὐτομάτου δὲ συμβέβηκε καὶ μάλ’ <εὖ>· ἔτικτε]ν ἡ Χρυσίς· καλοῦμεν τοῦτο γὰρ ]ονεου̣ πάλαι (55-57) * * * lacuna of 29 lines * * *

By chance things turned out well. Chrysis – for that is her name – [gave birth] [ ] a while ago [ …”

It would be helpful if we knew whether Chrysis meant to pose as the mother of the baby permanently, or just until after the wedding, at which point it would be acceptable for Moschion and Plangon to admit having a child together. The first situation has many and definite long term consequences; the second could conceivably have few. Scholars have hotly debated this issue, usually focusing their argument on whether or not she was capable of breast-feeding the baby, which would be necessary for a permanent adoption.274 If Chrysis had recently given birth herself, then she would have been able to breastfeed the child, and her maternal status is exactly the type of background information we would expect in the lacuna of Moschion’s introductory monologue. I accept the supplement of Sandbach (ἔτικτεν 56) and his conclusion that Chrysis had lost a baby fairly recently.275 Regardless, most scholars believe, and I agree, that the arrangement is only temporary, and Chrysis intends to restore the baby to its parents soon.276

New Comedy is a genre of coincidences, and we are supposed to accept these coincidences without much thought. Whatever Moschion said in his monologue would have convinced us that

Chrysis could successfully pose as the mother. A neat explanation would have followed the phrase “Things turned out well,” explaining how fortuitous events made his scheme possible. It

274 Several key articles in the debate are Sandbach 1986, Dedoussi 1988, and West 1991. 275 Sandbach 1986: 159. Here Sandbach states that his supplement of ἔτικτεν is not entirely satisfactory and states that the right word is yet to be found. 276 Hofmann 1975: 170; Blanchard 1983: 129; Dedoussi 1988: 41.

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is also important to remember that New Comedy has a fairly immediate focus: Moschion and

Plangon have a problem now; Chrysis takes the baby now; Demeas and Nikeratos will react to what is immediately apparent; repercussions will ensue; new decisions will be made; et cetera.

The immediate risks that Chrysis faces are the same regardless of how long she intends to keep the baby, since her lover Demeas could only assume she meant to keep the baby permanently. Our surviving text shows Chrysis weighing these risks in a conversation with

Moschion and his slave:

{Μο} τὸ παιδίον οὕτως ἐῶμεν ὡς ἔχει ταύτην τρέφειν αὐτήν τε φάσκειν τετοκέναι; {Χρ} τί δὴ γὰρ οὔ; {Μο} ὁ πατὴρ χαλεπανεῖ <σοι>. {Χρ} πεπαύσεται πάλιν. ἐρᾶι γάρ, ὦ βέλτιστε, κἀκεῖνος κακῶς, οὐχ ἧττον ἢ σύ· τοῦτο δ’ εἰς διαλλαγὰς ἄγει τάχιστα καὶ τὸν ὀργιλώτατον. πρότερον δ’ ἔγωγε πάντ’ ἂν ὑπομεῖναι δοκῶ ἢ τοῦτο τίτθην ἐν συνοικίαι τινὶ (77-85) * * * lacuna of 23 lines * * *

{MO} The baby, are we to allow her to go on raising it, as she is now, and to claim that she is the one who bore him? {CH} Why in the world not? {MO} Father will go ballistic on you! {CH} So what? He’ll get over it in time. You see, my boy, he is just as lovesick as you are. That drives even the most hot-tempered man to make a truce very quickly! I think I could put up with anything before a nurse [ ] this baby in some tenement [

Moschion here makes explicit the danger that Demeas will lose his temper with her, but Chrysis explains that this risk is not sufficient to dissuade her from her intentions.277 She knows he will

277 Harrison 1998: 70-71 and MacDowell 1978: 91 explain that when a child was born to an Athenian male, it was customary for the father to formally acknowledge it or reject it, and that acknowledgement was necessary for the child to become part of his father’s oikos and deme. Thus the formal recognition of a child entitles it to certain resources in his father’s house and privileges in the polis. Since Demeas already has a legitimate son, Moschion, recognition of Chrysis’ baby would diminish Moschion’s share of the estate and threaten his livelihood. See Lacey 1980: 164-65 on the danger of dividing the inheritance between two male heirs. Harrison 1998: 68-70 discusses another danger: according to Perikles’ citizenship law of 451/0 (re-enacted

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get mad, but she does not care. Chrysis is very clear about her motivation: she is taking the baby because she does not want to see him in the care of a stranger. We may speculate on additional motives or deeper motives, but it is clear that on some level she acts simply out of fondness for the baby, a fondness that might be increased by the fact that the baby is the progeny of her friends, Plangon and Moschion.

The second motive is offered by Moschion, when he says that Chrysis is pretending to be the mother of the baby as a favor to him:

{ΜΟ} οὐχὶ Χρυσίς ἐστι μήτηρ οὗ τρέφει νῦν παιδίου, ἀλλ’ ἐμοὶ χαρίζεται τοῦθ’ ὁμολογοῦσ’ αὑτῆς. (523-24)

Chrysis is not the mother of the baby whom she is now raising, but she is doing a favor to me by saying it’s hers.

We have already seen two examples of courtesans, a status somewhat akin to that of a pallake, who enact a plan in order to earn the favor of a stable and affluent family: Thais of Terence’s

Eunuch claims this explicitly as her motive when she endeavors to reunite her foster sister with the girl’s citizen family (148-149), and Habrotonon of Menander’s Epitrepontes hopes that she can gain her freedom by reconciling a pair of lovers (548-49). In the Samia, however, it is

Moschion, not Chrysis, who claims that Chrysis is taking the baby as a favor to him, and there is no talk of potential rewards. Furthermore, since Chrysis already has a stable position in Demeas’ household, she does not need a citizen patron like Thais of the Eunuch; Chrysis needs merely to not lose her current supporter. While her actions may indeed earn Moschion’s gratitude, this appears to be no more than an afterthought for her, or perhaps a happy coincidence. Where

Moschion assumes that Chrysis is doing a favor to him, we should understand that she is equally doing a favor to Plangon, the girl with whom she has a strong friendship.

in 402/1), a child of a foreign woman and a citizen man was not a citizen. It is possible that a father who enrolled an illegitimate child in a deme would suffer legal consequences.

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The risk that Chrysis takes in keeping the baby is great, perhaps greater than she admits to herself. When Moschion tells her that Demeas will get angry, she is convinced he will get over it because of his affection for her. Dedoussi believes that she seriously underestimates the precariousness of her social position: a bastard child has the potential to upset a household, and

Demeas could object to the fact that Chrysis has decided to keep the baby, a right that only the father has.278 But let us note that Chrysis was also correct in her assessment of this risk: Demeas did in fact get mad because she kept the baby, but, just as she predicted, he also got over it fairly quickly. Although the consequences could have been dire, Chrysis was right in assuming a less serious outcome. However, once Demeas discovers that Moschion is the father of the baby, he believes Chrysis has seduced and corrupted his son, which puts her in new danger. Her level of risk changes as Demeas’ interpretation of the situation changes. He throws her out of the house, telling her that it is because she kept the child (374), but in a monologue explains that this is merely the excuse he will give her (354-56); he is really more upset that she cheated on him and corrupted his son (338-48). His unexpected behavior changes things for Chrysis, who anticipated that he would forgive her quickly.

As Demeas dismisses Chrysis from the house, he indicates, and perhaps he falsely believes, that the consequences for her are not great: he sends her away with the nursemaid

(γραῦς 373), all of her belongings (τὰ σαυτῆς πάντα 381), and some servants (θεραπαίνες

382). It is the language and process of a divorce: he sends her away from the house with all of the things that belong to her, much as a husband can turn out a wife with her dowry.279 A citizen

278 Dedoussi 1988: 41. 279 Cohen 2006: 109-10 explains that Demeas and Chrysis likely had a contract in which they agreed that she would retain her possessions and handmaids in the event of a separation. Such contracts help hetairai retain their autonomy and avoid the appearance of dependency upon a master.

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wife, however, can return to her father’s house (or nearest living male relative), whereas Chrysis has nowhere to go. She will not be able to support herself without turning to prostitution, for which she is probably too old; selling things in the market like old widows do,280 which would offer a meager living at best and is not an option unless she has marketable skills; or finding another man to support her. But who would support another man’s child? Other examples in comedy show us that a courtesan can use a baby to convince a man to support her, but only if that man believes the baby is his own.281 Foolishly, Demeas thinks that the existence of the baby, a boy, is the ultimate good for Chrysis: ἀλλὰ σὺ | ὑὸν πεπόησαι· πάντ’ ἔχεις (“But you have had a son: you have everything,” 386-87). Perhaps he equates baby boys with long-term security for the mother, and that might be true of a married citizen woman. Chrysis’ son may be able to support her in her old age, something that is certainly a concern for any woman (or man) but especially a hetaira. However, keeping the baby alive until adulthood will be difficult without

Demeas’ support. Demeas treats her as a young citizen woman whom he is divorcing, and who has all of the opportunities of a citizen woman, including the financial support of her father and the possibility of another marriage.

Chrysis, however, has no such resources, and she has few options upon leaving Demeas’ house. With no natal home to return to, she seeks refuge with her good friends next door, where

Nikeratos receives her. At first he agrees with Chrysis’ assessment of the situation, that Demeas’ anger is only temporary and things will go back to normal soon. His protection and support ensures that his own wife and daughter risk nothing in offering Chrysis shelter. Meanwhile, the repercussions for Chrysis are temporarily averted: she has food and shelter for now, and there is

280 Cf. Ar. Lys. 456-61, where the old women in the chorus are depicted as sellers of various goods, and Ar. Thesm. 443-58, where a widow describes how she supports her family by selling garlands. 281 Cf. Plaut. Cist. 133-34.

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still hope that Demeas will get over his anger and welcome her back home shortly. But then something happens: Nikeratos sees his daughter nursing the baby (535-36), and now understands that the baby belongs to her, not Chrysis. Demeas, meanwhile, has learned the truth, that the baby belongs to Moschion and Plangon and is therefore his grandson. Nikeratos realizes that his daughter has had a child out of wedlock but does not know who the father is. His new attitude presents a new danger, which is evident when he threatens to kill the baby, as Demeas reports:

Ἡράκλεις, ἡλίκον κέκραγε. τοῦτ’ ἦν· πῦρ βοᾶι· τὸ παιδίον φησὶν ἐμπρήσειν ἀπειλῶν. ὑιδοῦν ὀπτώμενον ὄψομαι. πάλιν πέπληχε τὴν θύραν. στρόβιλος ἢ σκηπτὸς ἅνθρωπός τις ἐστί. (552- 56)

By Hercules, how loud he screams. I say this: [Nikeratos] is calling for fire! He says he will take the baby and incinerate it! I will see my grandson roasting! He just banged on the door again. The man is some sort of hurricane or thunderbolt!

In his wrath, Nikeratos threatens the baby and, as we will soon see, anyone who protects it.

Although we are not privy to her decision making process, it is apparent that Chrysis has decided to continue her charade rather than come clean in light of the increased danger. She continues to protect the child; if her affection would not allow her to let the baby be raised by a stranger, then it comes as no surprise that her affection would lead her to protect the baby’s life. With the increased stakes, the other women have been forced to become more involved. Nikeratos reports on their collusion:

{ΝΙ} Δημέα, συνίσταται ἐπ’ ἐμὲ καὶ πάνδεινα ποιεῖ πράγμαθ’ ἡ Χρυσίς. {ΔΗ} τί φήις; {ΝΙ} τὴν γυναῖκά μου πέπεικε μηθὲν ὁμολογεῖν ὅλως μηδὲ τὴν κόρην, ἔχει δὲ πρὸς βίαν τὸ παιδίον οὐ προήσεσθαί τε φησίν· ὥστε μὴ θαύμαζ’, ἐὰν αὐτόχειρ αὐτῆς γένωμαι. (556-61)

{NI} Demeas, Chrysis is conspiring against me and thoroughly screwing everything up! {DE} What are you saying?

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{NI} She has persuaded my wife and daughter to admit nothing, and she holds the baby by force and says she will not release him. Don’t be surprised if I become her murderer.282

While Nikeratos had offered Chrysis protection against the anger of Demeas, Chrysis’ friends must now protect her against Nikeratos. Nonetheless, it is dangerous to pin her long-term hopes on them; at best she can hope for a brief interlude of shelter before she either gets thrown out of both houses, or the issue gets resolved. At this point, they are her best and only option for protection. As she helped them, she now relies on them for help.

Since Nikeratos now views the three women as conspirators, his wife and daughter in danger, too. While Nikeratos threatens to kill Chrysis, surely his wife and daughter do not risk the same extreme fate. By colluding with Chrysis, the citizen wife risks at most the ire of her husband, and possibly his hand, but she will survive this. It might make her life more difficult in the short term, but in the long term things will probably return to normal. Her social status offers her the most secure position. As a citizen wife, her husband depends on her for companionship and practical support in running the household. He is also under cultural pressure to make his marriage work: it is a contract that his family entered with another family, and he was given a dowry, which he must return in the event of a divorce. He is unlikely to divorce his wife over something so trivial as her support for her friend and daughter. It is because of this security that the established citizen wife is able to stand up to her husband every once in a while in order to help another woman. Her decision is easy, or at least obvious: by keeping the secret, she can protect the reputation of her daughter and the safety of her friend Chrysis, not to mention the baby, and be relatively sure that she will not suffer for these actions too much in the long term.

282 Gomme and Sandbach 1973: ad 561 explains that, while αὐτόχειρ might literally have a more benign meaning, indicating any sort of corporal punishment including a slap, the word is connected with the most extreme varieties: suicide and murder.

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She, like Myrrhina of the Hecyra, is able to throw herself fully into the protection of her daughter. She and her husband will experience some marital discord, which is never fun, but after many years of marriage, they will probably work through it.

Nikeratos’ daughter is in an awkward position: Nikeratos has made Chrysis and the baby the objects of his rage – he has no plans to hurt his daughter – so by protecting Chrysis, Plangon puts herself in the path of his destruction. This course of action, however, is necessary to protect the baby. Like Philumena of the Hecyra, she had a strong motivation to conceal the pregnancy. If the secret becomes known outside of the family, she will be subject to social reproach and effectively be unable to marry anyone but the father of her child. The rape limits Nikeratos socially, because he no longer gets to choose into which family his daughter will marry. When he discovers the nothos, he is angry because that power has been taken from him, but perhaps with the destruction of the child, he can prevent the secret from becoming known outside the family.

Therefore there is no longer any reason for Plangon to deny the baby is hers, but plenty of reason to believe that the baby is in danger. If maternal affection made her give the baby to Chrysis rather than exposing it, now she must collude with Chrysis to protect it. And since her father knows the secret, there is a chance that she will be able to marry the father and reclaim the baby.

She protects Chrysis not only because Chrysis is a friend, and not only to repay the favor, but also because Chrysis protects her most precious possession. For Plangon, the worst has already happened. Her father is very angry to learn that she has a child; her collusion with Chrysis at this point inspires only a slight annoyance by comparison. Plangon risks little in protecting Chrysis at this point, but she stands to gain a great deal if her child is protected from harm.

Chrysis, then, risks by far the most, and stands to gain little. Her once secure position with Demeas has now been seriously threatened. Her brief period of refuge with her friends ends

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as soon as Nikeratos discovers that the baby belongs to Plangon. Chrysis has enjoyed the friendship of the women next door, but the daily interaction with these women is contingent upon the success of her relationship with Demeas. Perhaps the knowledge that this friendship might not last forever gives her all the more reason to appreciate it in the present. She is moved to protect the baby, and Plangon’s secret, because it is the right thing to do for the child, and she is emotionally incapable of sitting on the sidelines. She chooses to help her friends and accepts their help in return. Their mutual reliance can only strengthen the bonds of friendship and ensure that this resource is available to Chrysis for years to come, if she is allowed to remain in

Demeas’ house. By happy coincidence, Demeas has already been made aware of the true identity of the baby, and when Nikeratos threatens Chrysis, Demeas offers them refuge again in his own house. After this, however, Chrysis is no more than an afterthought for Moschion and Demeas: she briefly created a threat to the oikos, but now that the threat is over, she resumes her role as companion and housekeeper as if nothing ever happened. She remains “of secondary importance,” and while Demeas and Moschion regret their behavior towards each other, no one regrets his behavior towards Chrysis. 283 In fact, no one pays attention to her once the misunderstanding is resolved.

The three women have at least one common goal, to protect the baby, but beyond that, each brings private motivations to the scheme. Only by working together can each achieve the outcome that they desire. Moschion’s opening monologue indicates that their friendship is important to the story, and as we watch the play unfold, we see how they keep falling back on this friendship: when one is in danger, the other two lend a hand. When all are in danger, this only binds them together more fiercely, giving them strength in numbers. By cooperating with

283 Zagagi 1994: 136-37.

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each other, Chrysis earns the satisfaction of having saved the child, Plangon wins the status of respectable citizen wife with a male offspring, and her own mother can rest assured that she has protected her daughter’s reputation. Although it is true that by working together, each woman has achieved an immediate goal, we should not see their motives as purely short-term: they are strengthening a friendship which has served them well in the past and which they will continue to rely upon well into the future.

F. Conclusion

The plays discussed in this chapter cover women of a variety of classes and social status: citizen mothers, young brides, courtesans, concubines, and slaves. They demonstrate that virtuous behavior in women spans the social classes and can be found even in those who have little to gain from it. Despite Aristotle’s claim that women’s capacity for judgment lacks authority (ἄκυρον, Politics 1260a13), these playwrights have chosen to show women who are capable of choosing ethical conduct while the men are not, and desirous of acting honorably even when it carries no benefit or is potentially harmful. The sisters of the Stichus rely on each other’s support to do the right thing, and the neighbors of Casina know that they must protect the virgin girl, although they disagree on the reasons. The courtesans and concubine of Hecyra,

Epitrepontes, and Samia prove to be among the most sympathetic and upstanding characters in their plays. I have shown that Menander, Plautus, and Terence were successful partly because they created innovative characters, including honorable prostitutes and self-sacrificing mothers- in-law. Gutzwiller and Michelini argue that Hellenistic poets proved their talent by taking the inherited artistic forms and presenting them in a way that directly opposes the inherited value systems: “What was forbidden, peripheral, or shocking in Euripides was now the rule, expected as a challenge to an archaic code that seemed archaic and thus was preservable only by

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misuse.”284 Menander and the Roman poets, who so greatly admired Hellenistic literature, present moral and self-sacrificing women to an audience well aware of the Aristotelian school of thought that denies women this capability. In a mark of their genius, Menander and Terence in particular create women who operate according to Aristotle’s system of ethics, even though

Aristotle claims that women stand outside this system.

284 Gutzwiller and Michelini 1991: 73.

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Chapter 6. Concluding Remarks

Since my research investigates relationships between women and the complex motivations for their interactions, I use evidence only from plays of which a substantial amount of material remains. It is unfortunate that Aristophanes is the only Old Comedian whose work survives in detail, and rather more unfortunate that no sizeable work of Middle Comedy remains.

Because of this, the influence of these poets on the characterization of women in New Comedy is difficult to surmise. Moreover, although we have far more of Menander than we did a hundred years ago, most of the Greek New Comedy with which Plautus and Terence were familiar is lost to us. Unlike Middle Comedy, the Roman poets tell us directly that they draw heavily on many of these now lost plays. While I am unable to evaluate the works of Diphilus and Apollodorus directly, I hope to have indicated that they probably played a meaningful role in the development of dramatic portrayals of women and their relationships. We are fortunate to have much more of

Menander, and while the Samia and Epitrepontes allow us to investigate cross-class relationships, Menander would have more prominence in Chapter 4 had the Synaristosai and Dis

Exapaton survived. I have provided a detailed look at women’s interpersonal relationships in the evidence that survives, and can only acknowledge the debt that we owe to the lost authors and works.

The chapters of this dissertation address women of comedy thematically, rather than by author, which is possible only because the authors’ representations of relationships between women share so many features. I have demonstrated this empirically in Chapter 2, by combining many pieces of evidence from a variety of plays to show that the ways in which women interact and the people with whom they interact are consistent across Old and New, Greek and Roman

Comedy. The thematic investigations of the later chapters reinforce this idea: all four comic

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playwrights depict women from a variety of social positions making decisions based on bonds of solidarity with other women. Because of the political nature of the genre, Old Comedy focuses on large communities of citizen women, but women of all ages and classes are present in minor roles and equally involved in the collaborative efforts. In all four authors, we see women cooperating across classes and taking personal risks on behalf of friends, neighbors, and family members. The needs of individual plots lead to a variety of different kinds of relationships taking center stage: we see solidarity by gender, as in Aristophanes; by class, as with courtesans in the courtesan plays; because of blood ties or bonds of friendship, which apply equally to women of citizen and non-citizen classes; and even across classes, whether because of friendship or mutual benefit. Whatever the individual needs of a play, each is written against a common set of expectations for the relationships between women. I hope that my study provides a clear and thorough framework within which to read the women of comedy, and that it can be used for future literary, anthropological, and social-historical studies of women in Ancient Greece and

Rome.

By playing the role of resisting reader and looking at women’s relationships not with men but with each other, I have demonstrated that the women of Old and New Comedy have mostly honorable motivations. They are rarely selfish, and in fact frequently make personal sacrifices in order to help other women. Despite negative characterizations in Aristophanes, those women prove not to be sex-crazed lushes, but individuals determined to better the lives of themselves and their fellow females. Likewise, the women of New Comedy, even the courtesans, are neither wicked nor mercenary, but are motivated by positive desires to help friends and family members.

In Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazusae, a woman complains that Euripides puts wicked women

(πονηρά, 546) onstage, showing only Melanippes and Phaedras, never a Penelope (547). The

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Kinsman retorts that this is because no Penelopes exist in their day (550). Despite this jab at the expense of women, Aristophanes and the New Comic poets have created no Melanippes or

Phaedras. Neither have they created Penelopes, but women whose virtuous behavior is defined by their actions towards many characters, both male and female, not just their husbands and fathers.

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